


A Lost City of Atlantis

by Rilliane



Category: Atlantis (UK TV), Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Adventure, Angst, Atlantis sank, Crossover, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Jason-Centric, Post-Series, kind of a hopeful ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2016-03-05
Packaged: 2018-05-24 22:36:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6169336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rilliane/pseuds/Rilliane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After coming back to the future, Jason discovers that not so many things have changed throughout the ages.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Lost City of Atlantis

**I**

 

 Jason’s first encounter with monsters in modern London could only by described as strange.

He was dragged to a party by two of his old friends- Tom and Mike (with whom he last talked to four years ago, before _that_ happened) to, according to them, keep him from brooding. He definitely wasn’t in the mood for a party, but, as they pointed out, he never was.  He supposed that, once upon a time, he enjoyed that kind of entertainment- loud music, liters of alcohol. Well, the latter part didn’t change that much, only the type of alcoholic beverages did- he could no longer hold his liquor as good as he once did while drinking beer or vodka, too used to diluted drinks. So he made them promise there would at least be wine- it was still a far cry from home, but it was better than nothing.

He was still utterly amazed at their persistence. Someone would think that after three years of not seeing someone, they would forget about him- he certainly did, which was a constant source of guilt for him. It was also one of the reasons he finally agreed to go with them- to, in some strange way, atone for his oblivion. Well, it wasn’t that he completely forgot- he just didn’t think about them. He found new friends, and the old ones quickly became but a distant memory. Them and everything else.

So there he was, sitting at a couch, squeezed between Mike and a woman whom name he didn’t know, sipping wine and feeling as out of place as he hasn’t feel in a long time. Mostly because he avoided crowded places at all times.

Really, he hoped that his friends would see that he just didn’t _fit_ there, with the rest of them, and would let him go back to his solitude.

Mike’s voice pulled him out of his musings.

“You okay?” He frowned, concerned.

Jason forced a smile, hoping it looked genuine.

“Yeah, everything’s fine.” He held up his glass, showing that he was busy enjoying his drink.

Mike didn’t look convinced and Jason didn’t blame him. He wondered how was it possible that he was such a good liar in the past, but now everyone could read him like an open book. Though, maybe he just wasn’t trying. He did quite a good job at convincing doctors not to send him to a psychiatric hospital when he finally fully realized his situation. He shuddered at the memory.

His friend looked like he was about to say something else, but at that moment door opened and two girls entered. Jason involuntarily looked in that direction and then stared. And stared.

He didn’t  know how long he had been staring, but his gaze followed them all the way from the door to the couch opposite from him, until Mike poked him in the side. He slowly turned his head and was met with an amused expression.

“Finally found something interesting?” He raised suggestively his eyebrows.

When Jason didn’t answer, Mike apparently took that as a yes, and said, “Wait, I’ll introduce you.”

Before Jason could protest, the man already caught attention of the two new girls and was speaking.

“Hey, Mandy, Cassie, I don’t believe you’ve ever met my old friend, Jason,” he gestured to him, and Jason found himself frozen, being at the end of two pairs of red eyes.

Jason once again forced a smile onto his face, which wasn’t as easy as before and raised a hand in greeting.

“Hi.”                                                                                                                                                                                               

The one called Mandy licked her lips and ran fingers through her flaming hair.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, _Jason_. I’ve known quite a lot of Jasons during my life. But none of them was as nice as you. Right, Cassie?”

The other woman tilted her head, red eyes never leaving his face.

“Totally, Mandy. I almost want to crunch him,” she giggled, but to Jason it sounded more like a shattering glass.

He put down his cup and turned to Mike.

“Sorry, mate, but I think I already drank too much. I’ll be going.” He drank _definitely_ too much. He could blame the whiteness of the girls faces on too much make-up and red eyes on eye contacts, but he _couldn’t_ excuse their legs. It was time to go home.

Mike doubtfully looked at his glass and then at the women, silently asking: You’re going _now_?

Jason shrugged and sent him an apologetic  smile, already standing up and saying goodbye to everyone else, not that anyone really noticed him.

He didn’t feel drunk. He really didn’t. Yet, what was other explanation of what he just saw? It had to be hallucination, since, obviously, no one else seemed to notice. That, or the girls were going to a masquerade ball later and everyone save for him knew of that. He doubted that was the case.

Engrossed in his thoughts, he didn’t hear the sound of footsteps following him since he left Mike’s flat, until he found himself in an empty narrow alleyway. Finally realizing that something was wrong, he stopped dead in his tracks and silence engulfed him. Slowly, he turned his head, only to have to back away a few steps to avoid having his face bitten off by sharp fangs of the creature before him. His hand automatically went for his sword, only to come up empty. Jason cursed.

Mandy tsk-ed, wagging her finger at him.

“Seems like someone forgot their sword. We’ll have an easy meal today, Cassie.”

The second monstrous girl came behind her and bared her fangs.

“Yes, Mandy. We haven’t had a delicious meal in a _long_ time. Those mortal men aren’t really good,” she sniffed.

They both prepared to advance on him, but Jason stopped them raising a hand.

“Wait, just wait a moment,” he touched his forehead, as if to stop a migraine. “You’re actually real?”

The two women stopped, frowning at him.

“What do you mean if we’re _real_? Of course we’re real! What else are we supposed to be?” Yelled Cassie, seeming affronted at such an accusation.

“Part of my imagination,” said Jason, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“I mean,” he continued, “I can understand bad make-up. I’ve seen worse. Those eyes, too.  But these legs? They can’t be…”

“Don’t talk about the legs!” Shrieked Mandy. “It’s rude!” She lunged at him, only to have her arm twisted a little later. Cassie immediately rushed after her, but was quickly stopped by the flying body of her companion thrown at her.

While the two tried to get up, Jason once again looked them over. They had pearly white skin, gleaming red eyes, flaming hair and long fangs. If you looked only at the upper part of their body, you could mistake them for vampires. The problem started with the lower part, or, to be specific, their legs- one made of bronze, the other donkey-like. Jason tried blinking several times, but as much as he wanted to believe it was a hallucination, his brain was telling him otherwise. Maybe a year ago that sight wouldn’t really surprise him. More, he’d probably consider it _normal_ (to some degree, of course, there was always a rational part left in him). But not now. Not in this time, not in this world.

“Who- _what_ are you?”  He demanded.

Mandy got up first, brushing dust off her dress, and puffed up her chest.

“We are Empousai, servants of Hecate, of course!”

“Yes!” Intoned her Cassie. “We’ll also be the last thing you see!”

Jason’s brows rose almost to his hairline.

“Hecate? You mean the Greek Goddes of magic?”

“ _Of course_ we mean her! What are you, stupid?!”

Jason stumbled a few steps backwards. No. It couldn’t be happening. It was all his imagination, showing him things that weren’t real.

The pain from the next attack, however, definitely wasn’t imagined.

Jason avoided another attempt at tearing apart his throat by grabbing Cassie by the collar and pressing her face hard to the wall, earning an angry hiss. He put his hand around her throat and turned to Mandy.

“Don’t move or she dies,” he said, in what he thought was his most threatening voice.

It clearly didn’t work on Mandy. The empousa threw her head back, and roared with laughter. Cassie joined in with her, making coughing noises.

“You stupid boy!” She cried, still shaking. “You should know that you cannot kill us without Celestial Bronze or Imperial Gold!”

Jason frowned, seizing the moment in which Mandy was still busy laughing and tried to think. He searched his memory for the unfamiliar words, but came up with nothing. Bronze weapons? Yeah, he could understand that. But what did the celestial mean? Not to mention why would he need something like that to kill them? He was doing just fine with regular swords before.

Well, it wasn’t like he could test it now. He didn’t carry a sword with him around modern London, something he was starting to regret.

He turned again to his captive and quickly snapped her neck. A loud smack and the girl fell lifeless to the ground.

Mandy stopped laughing and pinned him with her red eyes, baring fangs. The empousa took a step backwards, then advanced, ready to tear him apart. But Jason expected that. His home might’ve been gone, but his abilities were not. When he came back, he honestly expected that everything would go back to the state it was before, so it was quite a discovery that he could still run so fast without getting tired and do other acrobatics at ease. So when Mandy threw herself at him, he was easily able to dodge the attack, then hit her with his elbow in the back of her head, something that should instantly knock her cold. And indeed, the monstrous woman fell unconscious to the ground.

Jason stared at the two bodies trying to focus, but his thought were scattered. He didn’t know what to think. Who? What? Why? He had so many questions but zero answers.

First things first. They said they were empousai. Jason thought he might’ve heard that word before, probably in one of Pythagoras lectures, even though he never encountered them before. So, if they existed in Atlantis… did he dare to hope? That not everything was lost?

He shook his head and berated himself. Of course everything was lost. Even if monsters still lurked in the shadows, it was hardly a fact to be happy about.

But he had bigger problems now. It shouldn’t be long until someone  finally came here (It was a miracle that nobody did yet, even if it was the middle of the night. They should hear the loud noises) and see him standing above two bodies, whom nobody besides him seemed to recognize for what they really were. Then he’d be accused of murder and locked away in prison. He really wasn’t looking forward to that, even though modern prisons were definitely much more comfortable than the ancient ones.

So, should he run, then? He looked at the two monsters splattered across the ground and took a deep breath. He should finish his job and kill Mandy, before she hurts anyone else. But even though she was a monster who tried to eat him, he was still hesitant to kill an unconscious person. A monster. Whatever. The problem was, she had free will. A mind of her own. Jason had never encountered a monster that could think for himself. And he wasn’t going to even _start_ thinking about Medusa.

When he was standing debating over his morals, he heard a quiet moaning noise. Jason flinched and prepared himself to struck the women down once again, but, to his surprise, it wasn’t Mandy that moved. Cassie was trying to stand up, propping herself on her elbows and spitting dirt from her mouth.

Jason stared. He couldn’t help it. By all definitions, she should be dead. It wasn’t the first time he snapped someone’s neck, and they definitely never got up after that. Okay, he should take into account that she wasn’t human, so she might be more resistant to such attacks.

Determined not to let her rise again, he quickly walked over to her and kicked her in the head. The empousa once again fell to the ground with a groan.

He had to think fast. What was he supposed to do now? What was the logical thing to do?

At the sudden impulse he grabbed Cassie’s body, slung her across his shoulders and ran to his flat.

He was never the logical type anyway.

 

He started to regret that decision not much later. He was originally planning to tie her up and then interrogate, but realized too late that a plain rope probably woudn’t be enough to hold a supernatural being in place. That resulted in a few fights and was the cause Jason was now sporting quite a few bruises and cuts. The empousa was unconscious once again, but Jason was aware that she wouldn’t stay like that for long. He had to think of something, which didn’t consist of going to a shop and buying manacles. Not that any shop would be open at 3 a.m.

He so wished Pythagoras was here. He would think of something.

But since he wasn’t, he had to rely on himself. Which wasn’t nice. At all. He wasn’t a thinker.

Okay, so tying her up to a chair didn’t work. He’d just have to try something else. He walked over to a cupboard and pulled a long kitchen knife. In no manner it resembled a sword, but it’d have to suffice. Unfortunately, he didn’t posses any bronze or golden cutlery.

Jason carefully approached the woman, but she hasn’t woken up. Since she was sprawled across the floor, he turned her so she was facing the ground, tied her hands behind her back and pressed his knee to them to keep her in place. Yes, she was strong, but he was stronger. He was confident he could hold her. He was a bit afraid of the fangs, though, but since he wanted her to talk, he couldn’t just seal her mouth. He’d just have to be extra careful.

He had to wait maybe three minutes, before the monster woke up. Realizing that she was once again outmaneuvered, she started to jerk in place, trying to free herself, all the while cursing in what Jason recognized as Ancient Greek.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he pressed the knife to her throat, only to receive a gurgling noise that could be laugh in return.

“Stupid half-blood! You’re not going to do anything to me with that fork!”

Jason pursed his lips and pressed the knife harder, determined to show her that he wasn’t joking, only for the knife to bounce off her skin, not leaving a single cut. Shocked, he tried again, but came up with the same result.

The empousa was making choking noises, not even trying to contain her laughter.

“I told you so!” She sing songed, mocking him. “You can’t kill me!” She giggled to herself.

“And why is that?” Jason asked casually. He caught on pretty quickly that while the monsters could think for themselves, they weren’t the brightest crayons in the box. If he managed to keep her talking, he might actually get useful info without much effort on his part.

“We already told you! You don’t have either Celestial Bronze or Imperial Gold on you!”

“And what is this Celestial Bronze you keep talking about?” he asked, sounding interested. Not that he had to fake it.

Cassie frowned, as if finding that question incredibly stupid.

“That’s the metal you demigods use to kill each other! How stupid are you!?”

Jason forced an awkward laugh, trying to appear as stupid as she suggested. Well, according to Hercules, he already was an idiot.

“Yes, you see, I lost my memory a while ago so I’m a little short on info. Could you please remind me what is a demigod?” he asked, as politely as he could.

The empousa looked like she was proud that she knew more than him and could share this knowledge.

“Demigods are the children of gods and mortals, whom we, monsters, kill,” she said it like it was the best thing in the world. “Now can you please let me go, so I can finally kill you?” She made what Jason supposed was a pleading face, but with her red eyes and white skin she looked even more terrifying.

Jason sadly shook his head.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that. I can, however, offer you a pie if you cooperate.” Immediately after the words left his lips Jason mentally smacked his face. A pie? Really? Was he already losing his mind?

The monster frowned.

“Empousai don’t eat pies. We drink the blood of men,” she bared her fangs as if to stress her point.

“Oh,” Jason said, rather stupidly. “Err, well, how about I’ll let you drink my blood after you answer my questions?”

Cassie looked at him suspiciously, clearly not believing him. Damn, he should know that she couldn’t be _that_ stupid.

“And why,” she hissed, “should I believe in the word of a demigod?”

“Because I’m not a demigod,” Jason pointed out.

She stared at him, red eyes not blinking.

“You’re lying.”

“I am not,” he pressed his knee harder to her back, because she was starting to twitch again. “I am most definitely human. Actually, I don’t believe what you just told me. Gods? Demigods? Pff,” he scoffed, causing her to struggle harder.

“It’s true!” She seemed outraged that he could doubt her words. “Gods exist! They are awful creatures that mingle with mortals! We monsters despise them all!”

Jason had to pause on that. Was she telling the truth? He definitely wasn’t the most religious type, but when he found himself in Atlantis, in the world of myths and magic, he assumed that there _might_ be gods. Still, it was always a distant idea, not something that he actually imagined encountering. He definitely never met a god. He knew that Hercules was supposed to be the son of Zeus, but he also knew that he wasn’t. He didn’t know if he believed in real demigods.

But returning to the matter at hand.

“So there are other Greek monsters besides you,” he started, trying to keep his voice even. “And you’ve been here for how long?”

“Since the beginning of the world!

“And at that party” Jason said, suddenly remembering what happened there. “Why no one else besides me could see you?”

“The mist keeps mortals from seeing our true form! They see whatever they want!” She started to jerk again, trying to twist her head so she could bite him.

“I answered your questions! Now let mi drink your blood!” She whined.

“Eh, not yet,” replied Jason, edging away from her fangs. “And I told you I’m not a demigod. You won’t like my blood.”

The empousa shook  her head as if to say that it didn’t matter.

“You’re a man, so I can drink it anyway,” she said offhandedly, then the second part of the message hit her. “And what do you mean you are not a demigod? What else can you be?!” She demanded.

Jason shrugged almost apologetically.

“I can assure you that neither of my parents are gods. I am pretty sure of that.” Unfortunately.

Cassie scrunched up her nose and narrowed eyes.

“You _do_ smell somewhat differently,” she said slowly, as if she wasn’t sure of herself. “But there is definitely something godly in you.”

Jason wondered if he should tell her about the whole business with being blessed by the gods. He decided against it.

“So,” he started, “the gods. You said they mingle with humans, so that means they have to sometimes come down to earth, right?”

When she didn’t answer, he continued.

“Do you know where I can find them?” He asked hopefully. If the gods existed, if he could find them, if he could talk to Poseidon…

The empousa glared at him.

“Why would I tell you that?! And you won’t get out of here alive anyway, so you don’t need that knowledge!”

“If you’re going to kill me anyway, what harm will it do if you tell me that?” He pointed out, then paused and said in an overly dramatic voice, “Oh, I wish I was a monster! I would know so many things that mere mortals don’t!” Gods, that sounded ridiculous even to his ears. But it seemed to have the desired effect on Cassie. The empousa was nodding vigorously, agreeing with his words.

“Yes! If you were as smart as me, you’d know that gods reside on the last floor of Empire State Building!”

Jason stared at her dumbfounded. Was she mocking him? He didn’t get that feeling, but she couldn’t possibly be serious. _Empire State Building_? Really?

“Eee, that’s very helpful. I always thought that they would be rather on Mount Olympus.”

Cassie sent him a condescending look.

“They are there!” She chided him. “Olympus moves along with the western civilization!”

That was… strange. He didn’t think she was lying about that (she was too passionate) but it was still a lot to swallow. Why would Greek gods be in America? It didn’t make sense.

Still, he decided to press his luck a little further.

“I see,” he made big eyes, trying to appear amazed by her knowledge. “I am sure that such a wise empousa like you knows a lot of other things. Like, for example, where I can find those swords made of Celestial Bronze you mentioned before.”

Cassie opened her mouth, but then closed it and frowned.

“I… don’t…” she chewed on her mouth, darted between the desire to share her knowledge and not tell him anything.

Jason made a disappointed face.

“You don’t know? Such a shame. I see I was wrong about you being such a wise empousa.”

“Wait!” She cried, desperate to reclaim her title. “I know! I know! You can get it from the gods!”

Jason cursed. One point for the enemy.

The empousa was looking at him smugly from the floor, proud that she was able to outsmart him.

But Jason wasn’t about to give up. If these weapons were the only thing that could kill those monsters, he needed them (besides the fact that he wanted to check if those were the same swords they used in Ancient Greece. Names could change, after all).

“But surely you know of a different source,” he pressed. “After all, I’m sure that not all demigods got their swords from gods.” Actually, he wasn’t sure at all.

“Probably not.” Cassie agreed, but didn’t say anything else, instead trying to bite him.

Jason sat silent for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts. Sweet talking didn’t work, so should he try to threaten her instead? No, she’ll probably laugh at him again. It’s not like he could do anything to her anyway. Unless…  The dark haired male paused. Should he try this? There was no guarantee it would work, but well, he had nothing to lose.

“You know,” he said casually, “I don’t think your Lady will be happy when she hears you tried to kill me.”

“Huh?” Cassie made a confused face.

“Well, my mother’s a witch. That makes her a servant of Hecate as well. Not to mention that she and her children were blessed by her.”

Jason waited for the news to sink in.

The empousa scrunched up her face, then her eyes widened.

“You’re lying!” She screeched, violently shaking her head.

“I swear I am not,” said Jason amiably. He wasn’t lying. At least he didn’t think so. If he was blessed by the gods, surely that included Hecate? Right?

The white woman glared at him suspiciously, then grinned.

“I’ll believe you if you swear it on the River Styx,” she said sweetly.

Jason’s eyes narrowed. It was obvious it was a trick, but how did it work? Would he end up in Hades after saying that? He shuddered, remembering his last visit to the Underworld. It wasn’t pleasant. On the other hand, if he could see Ariadne again…

“Why?” He asked warily, his eyes focused on her.

Cassie made a noncommittal shrug.

“Oaths not made on the River Styx are not valid. If you refuse to do that, I will just assume you are lying.”

Jason bit his lip. If she was going to believe him simply basing on that, there had to be some magic involved. Probably some lie-detecting magic. The question was, was what he was saying really true? Could he risk that? He took a deep breath. Oh, whatever. Maybe it was all in his head anyway and he’ll wake up a few minutes later.

“Fine,” he said through gritted teeth, “I swear on the River Styx that I’m not lying.”

Seconds passed by. Nothing happened. Jason released a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

Cassie was gaping at him with open mouth. Evidently, she too expected something to happen to him. Like maybe die on the spot.

Jason cleared his throat.

“If we finally established that I’m not lying, can you please answer my questions? Unless you want your goddess to find out what you tried to do to her favorite…”

“But…!” Cassie was opening and closing her mouth, looking like a fish out of water. “I didn’t know that!” She stuttered. “She cannot punish me for not knowing something!”

“Do you really think it will matter to her?” Jason asked calmly. “Gods can be quite unpredictable.” One of them thought it would be a good idea to sink an entire city without a reason, after all. Probably.

Cassie’s expression told him that he struck home.

“So,” he started, twirling the knife in his fingers, “Let’s start again. Where can I find this Celestial Bronze? And swear it on the River Styx. _Please_.”

 

Standing before the cave, Jason felt dread welling up in his stomach. _Of course_ it had to be a cave. As if he hasn’t visited enough of them to last for his lifetime. And that wasn’t even the best part. The cave was being inhibited by a cyclop. A cyclop that apparently had a habit of eating demigods and collecting their equipment as a trophy. When Cassie told him that, he felt the sudden urge to strangle her (…which he did, only it didn’t bring the desired result). Unfortunately, according to the empousa, there weren’t any shops selling them (no surprises there) and unless you went directly to the cyclops mining them (of whose location she had no idea) or found a piece of the metal and then made him into a sword yourself, there was no other option of acquiring them. It seemed that demigods really were getting their weapons from the gods, or at least that’s all she knew. Jason had to remember that she probably didn’t know everything. She was a monster, after all.

So here he was, left with his only alternative (at least in the British Isles). He was rather surprised, after hearing from Cassie that most of the monsters have adapted to modern times, that this one still chose to live in a cave. But maybe it was for the best. After all, _he_ didn’t fully adapt back either.

Ignoring his instincts that told him to run, he bent down and opened his backpack. Blessed by the gods or not, he wasn’t going to go against a cyclop unprepared. Before leaving for Cornwall, he wondered if he should buy himself a real sword. He even went to a shop, but none of the swords presented there even remotely resembled those he used in Atlantis. They probably would be as useless as the kitchen knife he used on the empousa. Not to mention they cost fortune.

Which meant he had no weapon to fight against the monster that killed hundreds of people before him. Just great. He loved his luck. Why was he doing it again? Right, to get the weapon. And he needed the weapon for…?

_Logic dictates that you don’t go to face Cyclops unarmed, Jason, unless you want to get yourself killed._

Yes, because he didn’t already know that.

The truth was, he was a little excited. The thrill he felt during that fight with the empousai was something he didn’t know he missed until he felt it again. So if becoming part of this world again meant he had to fight monsters with bare hands, he’d take it.

Carefully, he pulled out two torches he brought with him and set them on fire using a lighter. Next, he put the flask of gasoline in the pocket of his jacket. Monsters might be immune to normal metal, but they weren’t immune to fire. He was sure of that.

Idly, he walked to the entrance and had to bend down his head to fit. The passage was pretty narrow, and very hard to notice from the outside, being surrounded by bushes. It took him two hours to find it, despite having precise instruction. He wondered how a cyclop would fit in there. He must’ve had another exit, but Jason didn’t know if he’d have time to look for it.

After a few steps, it became completely dark and Jason cursed himself for not thinking to bring an electric torch. Maybe he’d be even able to blind the monster.

For the first few minutes the only sound accompanying Jason was the echo of his footsteps, which only became louder along with the passage expanding. He could finally straighten his back, which was a nice relief.

The problems started when he came to a crossroads. He paused for a moment, trying to hear some movement, but the only sound he heard was his heartbeat.

After some debating, he finally chose the left one. It didn’t really looked any different than the right, but standing in one place wouldn’t do him any good.

This time, it wasn’t long before he found something. And he didn’t like it one bit.

The spacious room he came to was filled to the brim with bones. Some old, some fresh with remains of flesh clinging to them. He flinched when he accidentally stepped on one of them, and the crunch echoed throughout the cave. If he had some doubt left that that was indeed the lair of a cyclop, it disappeared now.

And _of course_ it had to be now that the monster decided to inform him of his presence. The loud groan, in some terrible way resembling a yawn, seemed to be coming from the direction Jason came from. Which meant he couldn’t go back the same route.

Desperate, he searched for any alternative escape routes, but came up with nothing. There was a fireplace in the center, but that was it. Overall, it looked like a monster’s dining room. And said monster was now coming for lunch.

Jason took a deep breath and pressed his back against the wall on the right side of the entrance, so  when the cyclop entered, he wouldn’t immediately notice him. The only problem presented the still blazing torches, but he had no way to put them out quietly. The monster surely would see the glow coming from them.

When the sound of the footsteps got closer, he took both of the torches to one hand and stretched his arm as far away from the exit as possible. It didn’t do much good, since the room was still pretty well illuminated, but Jason hoped that the monster would be so benighted after the sleep that he woudn’t notice anything out of the ordinary at first. That would give Jason time to act.

When the cyclop finally emerged, Jason had a second to register that he was smaller than he expected, dressed in ragged cloth that could once upon a time be an oversized t-shirt. He didn’t see his face, but he hadn’t had time to wait for him to turn around. At the time the monster finally realized that something was wrong, Jason swung his arm and struck him with one of the torches with all his might. Bad news: he didn’t take into account that modern torches weren’t as tough as the ancient ones, being made from a lighter stuff, and he bought his in a shop. He cursed himself once again for his own stupidity in choosing the equipment. Good news: the monster was still taken off guard, stumbling a few steps and roaring with rage, what gave Jason the time he needed to lunge for the exit, but not before kicking the cyclop for good measure, causing him to  fell to the ground.

More screams and what Jason thought to be curses (that monster could talk too?) followed him as he ran the same distance as before but twice as fast. It wasn’t long before he came to the crossroads and hesitated. He still hasn’t found what he was looking for, and leaving now would make the whole trip pointless. Besides, he knew there had to be another exit somewhere, and since it wasn’t in what he dubbed now as the dining room, it had to be in the right tunnel. Maybe he’ll get lucky and find ‘the treasure’ and manage to escape without even having to confront the monster. But… wouldn’t that be pointless too? After all, what did he need a sword for if he wasn’t going to use it?

Not waiting for the monster to catch up to him, he chose the right  tunnel and sprinted down the path. It led to another big room, mostly empty, this time however it wasn’t a dead end. There were three other exits, one of which led further down, and the other was something that probably was being used as a bedroom.  There was a pile of dirty and frayed bunch of mattresses, pillows and other soft things that probably served as a bed. What caught Jason’s eye, however, was the second room. When the dining room was filled to the brim with bones, this one was covered mostly with gadgets of all sorts. There were swords, knifes, spears, shields, pieces of armor and other things he didn’t know the name of. Enchanted, he walked to the nearest pile and with utmost care picked up a sword from it. It felt perfect in his hands, ideally balanced, not like those swords he saw in the shop in London. But what was most important was that this sword looked almost identical to the ones he used in Atlantis.

Jason felt a sudden wave of nostalgia and felt his eyes watering.  He didn’t feel that close yet far to home in a very long time. He could almost hear Hercules shouting some commands from afar and Pythagoras scolding him for his carelessness.

A rough voice broken him out of his musings.

“Well, well, well. Seems like dinner came to me himself.”

Jason froze. While he was reminiscing his past, the cyclop managed to catch up to him and he didn’t even notice. He really should work on his awareness.

Slowly, he turned around and finally could see the monster in all his glory. Though, really, there wasn’t much to look at. With his one eye and wrinkled, dirty face, he didn’t differ that much from the Cyclops he saw in Atlantis, only smaller. Still, he was twice the size of Jason and was now blocking the exit with his enormous body. There was no chance of bypassing him.

The monster was grinning from ear to ear, sure that he had an easy prey, and Jason found himself wondering if all monsters were as dumb. Someone’d think that if they had the ability to think for themselves, they would actually _use_ it. He was practically in armory, for gods’ sake! Granted, he had the disadvantage of being smaller, but still. He hoped that this cyclop couldn’t use a sword.

“I was just passing by, I will be gone in minutes,” Jason thought that since the monster hasn’t attacked him yet, he can as well try talking.

Thick laughter echoed throughout the tunnels.

“You won’t be going anywhere, boy!”  he bellowed.

And then he advanced, and Jason found himself avoiding the punch by scratch by rolling to the side, the wall where he stood now sporting a big dent. Maybe it wouldn’t be as easy as he had thought, after all.

He barely managed to get up when the monster attacked again, this time hitting his arm. Jason hissed in pain and blindly swung his sword, not really seeing If he hit anything. Judging by the angry roar, he had, but it was only a scratch, not doing any real damage. The only thing he had succeeded in so far was making the monster more angry.

Wincing in pain, he lunged with the sword again, but was easily blocked and the weapon fell out of his hand. Before he managed to pick it up again, he was grabbed by the enormous hand and pressed against the wall, and Jason felt all air leaving his lungs.

Staring right into the big eye, Jason found himself wondering _Is it how I am going to die?_ He faced so many monsters before, fought so many battles and yet always managed to come back victorious. _But he had his friends then._ Yes. His friends. Pythagoras, Hercules… how many times did they save his life? He’d be long dead if it weren’t for them. As should _he_ be, along with everyone else. It wasn’t fair that he should stay alive when all the others died. Were his sins so big that gods decided  to punish him so much? Because it wasn’t a blessing. It was a curse.

So awaiting his death, Jason felt strangely calm. Yes, that was the right order of things. He will see his family again, hold Ariadne in his arms, as he had when the wave came. Laugh at Pythagoras’ obsession with triangles, tease Hercules about his weight. Yet, when he imagined his friends’ faces, they looked disappointed.  _Why? Why are you looking at me like that?_

 _You told us to live  but you throw your own life away._ Was what the picture of Pythagoras was saying.

Did he? He remembered the last time he talked to his friends.

 

_“Use Daedalus’ wings to get out of the city and into the desert. Go to Thebes or Aegina. There is nothing left in Atlantis but death.”_

_“We cannot go without you!” Cried Pythagoras, his blue eyes widening._

_“And there’s no guarantee that will even work!” Said Hercules, crossing arms over his chest. “The last time Icarus tried that, he didn’t get far before falling down!”_

_Pythagoras shot him a glare, saying ‘That’s not the point!”._

_Jason turned his attention to the third man, hovering in the distance._

_“Can it work?” He asked seriously._

_Icarus fidgeted nervously, not really wanting to answer._

_“I… I don’t know,” he managed at last. “I fell down because I was shot, not because the wings were faulty, but the ones I used were specifically made for me. I don’t know about his other inventions.”_

_“But there is a good chance that they will work?”_

_Icarus reluctantly nodded._

_“There wasn’t a better inventor than my father,” he said in a way of explanation._

_Jason looked at Hercules expectantly. The man seemed to digest the words for a few moments, then nodded curtly._

_“Hercules!”  Cried Pythagoras, aggravated at his action._

_The big man turned to his companion and placed both hands on his arms._

_“Look,” he started, his face unusually serious, “that is our only chance. We have to take it.”_

_“But we cannot leave Jason!” Countered Pythagoras, his face determined._

_Hercules took a deep breath and turned to his second friend._

_“Will you go with us?” He asked, his dark eyes boring into Jason’s._

_The curly haired man found himself shaking his head._

_“The captain goes down with the ship,” he tried cracking a smile, but seeing his friends’ expressions, he must have failed._

_“You and your nonsense,” rebuked Hercules, referring to all the times Jason said things that made no sense to him, and the younger man almost smiled._

_“I won’t go, but please, take Ariadne with you. I want her to be safe.”_

_Hercules looked at him grimly._

_“You know she won’t want to go. She’s even more stubborn than you.”_

_Jason smiled lightly, thinking of all the times Ariadne had refused his help and did just fine on her own. But not this time. They wouldn’t get lucky. His face turned serious and he looked straight into Hercules’ eyes._

_“I know. I’ll trust you with her.”_

_Hercules hesitated for a moment, then nodded, firmly._

 

_In the end, they didn’t find Ariadne. They searched the whole palace up and down, now full of people that sought shelter from the water, but there was no sign of the queen._

_“If we wait any longer, the humidity might disable the wings,” Hercules spoke it in a gentle tone, but the message was clear: We have to go._

_Jason turned to them, and, forcing down the pain that was filling his heart, smiled._

_“Yes, of course, when I find her, I’ll send her with someone else. You go.”_

_Hercules looked unsure and Pythagoras was overall unhappy with the whole ordeal, still protesting from time to time, but the bigger man took firmly his arm and gave a curt nod._

_“It’s not the last time we see each other,” said firmly the oldest of their group, and Jason could swear he saw tears gleaming in his eyes. Pythagoras, on the other hand, was openly crying and Jason felt his own cheeks wetting._

_Before the blond man could say something that would completely break his heart, he quickly walked over to his best friends and embraced them. They stood like that for a few moments, surrounded only by the screams of the citizens and their own hiccupps, before Jason pushed them away and said firmly:_

_“Go.”_

_That was the last time he saw his friends._

 

_Ariadne reappeared two hours later, when it was much too late to escape and water has finally reached the palace._

_“I thought I had already lost you,” he said in quiet voice, clinging to her like she was his last hope._

_“You will never lose me,” answered his wife gently, kissing him as if there wasn’t a world crumbling down. As if everything would be all right. And, for a moment there, he believed that to be true._

_They spent their last moments together, laying in their bed like any other night._

_“I love you,” were the last words they said to each other._

_And then his world ended._

 

They would see each other again. He stopped believing that almost immediately after returning to this world. After all, it was a place devoid of magic, where people believed in Heaven and Hell, not Elysium and Tartarus. But… if it was the same world after all, would he really see his family again? He didn’t know if Hercules and Pythagoras had made it- he liked to think so, but after everything he turned into a pessimist. His only consolation was that Pythagoras hadn’t finished his theorem the last time he saw him. But even if they had, it was three millenniums ago. They were long dead. Were they surprised, upon coming to Hades’ Kingdom, expecting to see him, only to find out he was never there? Or did they think that instead of reaching the paradise he was writhing in agony on The Fields of Punishment? Probably not. They always believed him to be ideal.

The thing was, if that was true, why should he fight it? It wasn’t suicide. He hadn’t planned it. He could admit that he thought about that, but never really considered it. If that was his punishment for those mistakes he made, then be it. But maybe now…

_“YOU STUPID BOY! IF YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT TO LIVE FOR, LIVE FOR REVENGE!”_

The sudden outburst was so loud and fierce that it brought Jason out of his reverie immediately, just in time to avoid being eaten by a monster. Not able to move his arms, he swung his leg as hard as he could, kicking the monster in his stomach. The Cyclop hissed in pain, instinctively dropping his victim to the ground.

Upon making contact with the floor, he rolled to one side, grabbed a sword that laid closest to him, and sprung to the monster, at the exact same time the cyclop had turned around.

This time, the blade cut skin smoothly, and after a loud roar that shook the walls, there was nothing left of the monster but golden dust.

 

One week later, Jason found himself at the Heathrow Airport, awaiting his flight to New York, The United States.

 

**II**

 

Two weeks into his stay, Jason started to doubt the point of the whole journey. He rushed to America in hopes of finally finding some answers, but so far, he hasn’t find anything even remotely interesting.

The first thing he did after his arrival was visit the Empire State Building, but the only thing he found on the last floor were masses of tourists that came to view the panorama of New York. Unless gods were amongst them, it appeared to be a dead end. Which meant Cassie lied, which was strange, since Jason was pretty sure she was telling the truth. Then again, she was a monster- not the most trustworthy material. Not to mention that the whole idea of Olympus being at the top of that building seemed ridiculous to him from the start. Maybe he was right.

Yet, he just couldn’t force himself to leave. Technically, if there weren’t any gods there, there was nothing keeping him in the city. Maybe he should have gone to Greece instead, he thought, then cringed with distaste. That particular thought had crossed his mind several times, but each one, he was quick to dismiss it. He’d probably fall into a complete depression, seeing the all too familiar surroundings but not his beloved city. He almost cried when he saw a document about Pompeii once, switching channels on the TV. The stories were so similar it was scary. Atlantis was consumed by water, Pompeii by fire, but both cities were completely destroyed and then turned into a myth. Maybe he should be glad that there are no remains of Atlantis- he wouldn’t want to see it.

But  what should he do now? Start a new life and forget about the past? Not likely to happen. Continue chasing after something that may very well not exist? _Live for revenge._  Yeah, easier said than done. Revenge on who? The gods? Seemed like there was a shortage on them. Not to mention he doubted he would be able to kill an immortal being. It was a bit self contradictory.

Jason let out a long breath, stretching his legs before the bench he was sitting on. Having nothing better to do, he wandered aimlessly around Manhattan, trying to find… anything. It was quite an improvement from his  previous habits in London, where he was mostly staying in his flat and moping around. In the last few days he was motivated by a (somewhat unclear) goal, but now even that motivation was fading. He had run into a few monsters, including two tattoed giants dressed as policemen (he still couldn’t get used to monsters being so… resourceful), one hellhound and a drakon. Unfortunately, they weren’t as talkative as Cassie and he didn’t manage to get any useful info from them apart from the fact that half-blood meant the same as demigod and that the monsters were constantly mistaking him for one. Why, he didn’t know, but he started to think that instead of looking for gods, maybe he should start searching for their children. But, again, he had no way of doing that, unless he started tailing monsters who apparently could sense their scent… but It was destined to fail, since they would just attack _him_ instead.

Yes, he was quickly losing all his previous enthusiasm.

Little did he know that an opportunity would find him soon enough.

 

The sun was beginning to set when Jason decided to finally go back to his hotel. He haven’t spend as much time outdoors since coming back to this world, and now he remembered why- the loud noises of traffic, exhaust gases- it all made his head go dizzy. On the other hand, the time he spent in the green areas calmed him down and let him forget a bit that everything was _not_ right. Maybe he should go out more, after all. When he was left alone with his thoughts he tended to dwell too much on certain things.

He was crossing a street when he felt a sudden force bump into him from behind and throw him off balance. Startled, he barely avoided collapsing and looked up just in time to see a squealing massive of fur disappear among shouting passerbys. Jason stopped in his tracks and gaped at the place the animal disappeared. Was that… a boar? He probably shouldn’t have been surprised after all the things he had seen, but he just couldn’t help it. What was a boar doing in the middle of the city? Did it escape from the zoo? But things like that happened only on the TV…

He was pulled out of his thoughts yet again when another figure bumped into him, this time shouting a quick “Sorry!” before disappearing into the crowd. Jason didn’t have much time to take a proper look at the person, but one thing definitely caught his eye- a shimmering bronze sword held in a firm grasp. He didn’t wait long before rushing after the boar and the boy.

Following them wasn’t hard. People parted before the animal, some of them crying ‘Someone catch that dog!’, what only confirmed Jason’s suspicion that the so called “mist” was at play. Which meant that he probably would be dealing with another Greek monster again, this time willingly. But, well, he couldn’t miss an opportunity to talk to some other owner of an ancient sword, whoever he was. Jason hoped that someone who would clear some things for him.

They ran a long time, before finally entering a small park. The squealing animal immediately disappeared among the bushes, causing many pigeons to flew off in panic. The boy who was chasing him halted in his steps, unsure as if to follow. Jason stopped as well, but before he managed to decide if he should approach the teenager, loud rustling was heard, and a gigantic boar, at least four times bigger than the one he saw earlier, emerged from the bushes on the other side of the path, snorting and getting ready to attack.

Jason shouted, “Watch out!” and the teenager turned around just in time to jump out of the way of the enraged boar. He cast him a surprised glance, but didn’t have time for anything more, because the boar rushed at him again, this time being met with the blade of a bronze sword.

After a few minutes of standing stupefied in place, Jason finally cursed and slid his backpack off his shoulders, throwing it open and revealing a handful of weapons. It was terribly inconvenient to carry them in such a manner instead of on the belt (and it was even more cumbersome to wear a backpack big enough to fit a sword) but he didn’t have much choice- if he started parading around armed, people would get suspicious.

From the many items he took from the cyclop’s cave, the only ones he had with him where the sword, which was his main weapon in recent fights, a small bow with a quiver and a pair of short knives. He chose a sword, as per usual, and got up, ready to fight. Thankfully, the monster didn’t notice him, fully focused on the boy, who was now gasping a little, slashing across his skin, but doing little damage.

A bit too late, Jason thought that maybe the bow would be a better choice, but he didn’t have time to go back for it- the boar forced the boy to go back a few paces, closer to Jason’s actual position, and was now not far away from knocking the weapon out of his hands.

Not thinking twice, the Atlantean jogged to his side, slashing the boar with his own sword, causing the beast to roar in rage.

“Need a hand?!” He shouted, trying to slice the animal in two, which was proving harder than he thought.

The boy’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, but it was quickly replaced with a grin.

“Sure!”

Together, they dashed at the monster with doubled force, but their efforts were pretty much in vain- the monster managed to fend off all their attacks with ease, getting more and more agitated, his teeth constantly clashing with their swords.

Jason felt frustrated. _Why_ wasn’t it working? By this time the boar should be evaporated, yet he was still standing almost unscratched. Was it a normal animal (though impossibly big) that the celestial bronze couldn’t cut him? Somehow, he doubted it. And still, all their efforts did was stopping the monster from assaulting further on them.

“It’s no good!” Jason shouted to his new companion. “We’re not doing him any harm!”

“His skin’s too thick,” gritted the teenager, parring another attack. He was visibly tired from the constant sword swinging, not to mention is seemed like he was doing that for a long time before Jason joined him.  “But he’s got to have a weak spot! They all have!”

Jason tried to think of something helpful but came up with nothing.

“An eye?” He guessed, desperate.

The boy furrowed his brows, sweat trickling down his cheek.

“Maybe, but it’s not going to kill him,” he raised his head and stared into distance, his face seeming to brighten. “Look, we have to get him to that pond!” He gestured with his free hand to a nearby small body of water, mostly occupied by ducks.  There didn’t seem to be any people around, which Jason was grateful for. Though now that he thought about it he hadn’t seen any people since entering the park..

“Why?” He asked, skeptical.

“You’ll see! Now come!” he jumped back from the beast forcing Jason to do the same, turned around and ran towards the pond. Jason could hear that the boar took the bait and was now following them  at maximum speed, almost catching up.

“Jump back when we’re on the edge!”

Jason had only a second to register that before he found himself right in front of the water, forcing his body to twist to the side, only his good reflexes saving him from collapsing from the sudden maneuver.

He heard a loud splash when the overgrown pig hit the water, then squealing noises when the boar tried not to sink. Would he really just drown?

The Atlantean turned his head to the New Yorker to ask ‘What now?’ but he halted when he saw the boy raise his arms, his face creased in concentration. Jason frowned, confused. What was he doing?

He got his answer a moment later, when the water under the boar rose into a column, stranding the animal kicking and grunting on top.

Jason gaped, looking at the water mesmerized. What kind of magic was _that_?! Sure, he saw monsters in modern world, but he had yet to witness a true act of magic. Last time he saw something like that was when a certain former queen got really angry…

“How-“ he was cut off by the urgent voice of the teenager:

“Can you hit him in his abdominal?! I get a feeling that might actually work!”

Deciding to leave his questions for later, Jason focused on the suggestion.  How did the kid expect him to hit the animal? He was well above the water, so besides jumping right onto it (which he’d rather not do) the only way was swing the sword at him. Now, he could throw knives with perfect accuracy, but swords? He wasn’t so sure.

“Can you hold him like that a bit longer?” He asked.

The teenager grimaced but nodded, and Jason took it as his cue, sprinting to the place they all came from. Fortunately, no one has touched his backpack, so Jason quickly retrieved his bow and quiver from it and jogged back to the pond. The boar was wriggling in place, trying to stand up, but clearly being not able to do so. Jason wondered why he hasn’t fallen over from the water yet.

He cast a glance at the boy only to see that he was probably reaching his limits. He didn’t have much time.  He took an arrow out of his quiver and attached it to the bow string, taking an aim. After a short intake of breath, he released the arrow, which sailed through the air and hit the animal just when he turned, hitting him in the side. The boar roared, but the arrow bounced  off his skin.

Jason cursed and repeated his attempt, this time being much more successful. The arrow his its mark, piercing the animal’s skin and causing him to squeal in pain. But he wasn’t about to count on luck- he released two more arrows, before finally sighing in relief. The boar gave its final squeal before turning into golden dust, the water column disappearing after him.

Jason slumped to the ground, exhausted. It wasn’t his worst fight, but it was still tiring, and he was still getting back into the shape he was once in. He wasn’t bad, but he knew he could do better.

Beside him, the teenager was already lying on his back, taking deep breaths.  Now that he had a moment of peace, Jason could finally take a good look at him. He was about eighteen, maybe nineteen, with tousled black hair and sea green eyes. He had a leather strap with some colorful beads hung around his neck and was dressed in jeans and faded orange t-shirt, now covered in dirt. There seemed to be something written on it, but Jason couldn’t make out the words.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, the younger of the two men stretched, yawning loudly, and sat upright, the previous exhaustion much less visible on his face.

“Good job with the bow,” he grinned to Jason, giving him thumbs up. “I probably wouldn’t be able to get him on his back long enough to strike him in the abdominal, without him crushing me first.”

“Thank you,” Jason accepted the compliment, then added, “But if you didn’t hold him in one place I wouldn’t be able to hit him. Speaking of which, how did you do it?” He quirked up, greedy to satisfy his curiosity.

The boy  shrugged sheepishly.

“Only little trick with water,” he said dismissively, then elaborated, “My father’s Poseidon.”

Jason’s jaw dropped.

“ _What_ did you say?”

The teenager suddenly looked unsure, casting him nervous glances.

“Uh, I said my father’s Poseidon. You’re Greek, aren’t you?”

Jason felt taken aback. _Why_ would anyone suspect him of that? Certainly no one has, not with his British accent.

“How did you know?” He asked, furrowing his forehead.

The boy gestured with his hands (Jason suddenly registered that the double edged sword he was previously wielding was now nowhere in sight) to Jason’s own bronze sword, seeming relieved that the answer was apparently positive.

“It’s Celestial Bronze, isn’t it?”

“What of it?”

“Well, if you were Roman, you’d probably have Imperial Gold instead.”

Jason frowned. What kind of logic was that? Why would he be a Roman? Did the Imperial Gold originate from there? He found some golden weapons in the cyclop’s cave, but didn’t find them to his liking, so he brought only some small items with him. They must act as hallmarks of some sort. He followed the boy only because of his sword, after all…

“Anyway,” he said, clearing his throat, “who are you?”

The teenager smiled and stretched out his hand.

“Percy Jackson, nice to meet you.”

Jason shook his hand, saying a bit awkwardly, “Jason.”

 He supposed it might sound rude, not giving his last name, especially when the other had, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He only fully introduced himself when it was strictly necessary, and even then the name sounded foreign on his lips. After three years of using only his first name, he almost forgot the second part and still hasn’t got used to it again. Once upon a time, he would be horrified at the idea of abandoning his father’s name, but, well, now it didn’t really matter. It was a fake name anyway.

Percy’s brows rose in surprise, though he didn’t look offended.

“What, really?”

Jason looked at him with a confused stare.

“What’s so strange about it?”

The boy blinked, then waved his hand a bit awkwardly.

“Ah, nothing. It’s just, I have a friend called Jason as well. I guess it must be a popular name these days, my full name’s Perseus, by the way,” he babbled, seeming embarrassed by his earlier reaction.

Jason had no idea what to make out of what he had just heard, so he decided to focus on the thing that interested him the most.

“You said that your father was Poseidon?” He pressed, perhaps a bit too eagerly, but he couldn’t help it. If that was true, then he just found what he was looking for all along. Kind of.

“Yeah. Judging by your earlier reaction I guess you haven’t heard?”

“Heard about what?”

Percy sighed, as if not particularly liking to recount the story.

“The pact being broken and so on. You look some years older than me, so you must’ve been at the camp quite a long time ago. Actually, I’ve never met an adult hero besides Daedalus, but he doesn’t really count, and people in New Rome, but they don’t really count either, so-“

Jason raised a hand to stop the flow of words, feeling a migraine forming in his head.

“Wait, just wait a moment. I’m getting lost here. What camp are you talking about? And did you just say you met _Daedalus_?”

Percy waved the second question aside, deeming it unimportant.

“Well, Camp Half-Blood of course! You went there, didn’t you?” He frowned, suddenly seeming not so sure.

Jason shook his head, his brain processing the words he just heard. Half-Blood? As in _demigod_?

“I’ve never heard of it,” he said honestly.

Percy’s frown deepened, and the boy looked like he didn’t know what to make out of the confession. Then, suddenly, he brightened, an idea hitting him.

“Oh, right! You’re British! Is it your first time in the States?”

Jason, once again, was taken aback. _Now_ he was calling him British?

“Actually, yes,” he admitted, then added, “and you still haven’t answered my question.”

Percy scratched his chin, contemplating his answer.

“Well, Camp Half-Blood is a camp for demigods, as the name says.” _So I was right,_ thought Jason.

Percy opened his mouth as if to say something more, but then halted, his face creasing in something that resembled worry.

“Wait,” he said slowly, carefully choosing his words, “if you weren’t to Camp Half-Blood, and Jupiter as well, I take it?” Jason shook his head and the teenager continued, “then how do you know how to fight like that? And where did you get your weapons from?”

Oh well. Here came the interesting part.

“I had friends who taught me. They were quite good at swordplay.” Well, some of them were, and Pythagoras had gotten better with time. “And I took the sword from a cyclop I’ve run into.” Intentionally. Never mind that.

Percy’s face bordered on being confused and impressed.

“You learned swordplay from your friends… I guess they were your protectors?”

_‘We’re here to protect you, Jason!’_

“You can say that,” he answered dryly. Despite not being able to hold a grudge against his late friends, not after everything that happened, he still vividly remembered what their supposed “protecting” led into. It wasn’t something he liked to recall.

Percy hummed, turning a ballpoint in his fingers. Finally, he asked:

“So what brings you to New York?”

That reminded Jason what originally caught his attention.

“Ah, right. I actually came here to look for the gods, because I was stupid enough to believe that they were residing at the top of the Empire State Building.” On the second thought, maybe he shouldn’t have said that. It was _really_ embarrassing.

Percy’s lip twitched for a moment, before finally bursting into laughter.

“Hey! It’s not my fault I didn’t have any valid source!” Jason cried defensively, fighting the blush that was appearing on his cheeks. He _definitely_ shouldn’t have mentioned that.

“N-no,” Percy finally managed, wiping a tear from his eye, “ you were right. Olympus _is_ on the 660 th floor.”

“What!” Jason exclaimed in disbelief. Was the kid having him on? He didn’t fancy falling for the same trick again. “No,” the Atlantean said stubbornly, crossing arms over his chest. “I was there. Olympus is definitely _not_ there.

Percy raised his hands in a placating manner, the former mirth disappearing from his face, though there was still an amused gleam in his eyes.

“No, I’m telling the truth,” he started in clear voice. “Olympus _is_ there, but you need to have, how to call it, an authorization to get there. There is always a security guard in the lobby who has the key, but you need to be really persuading to convince him to give it to you.”

Jason frowned, digesting his words. It didn’t sound any less ridiculous than before, but then again, he would laugh if someone told him that monsters these days dressed as policemen.

“So you were there?” He asked suspiciously.

Percy shrugged, his gaze locked on the ballpoint in his fingers.

“Yeah, a few times. Why did you want to go there anyway?” The demigod inquired curiously.

Jason took a breath. Now was his chance.

“I need to talk to them about something. Well, actually, the one I want to talk to the most is Poseidon. Would you make that possible?” He put all his efforts to sound as pleading as possible.

Percy shot him a surprised look.

“Huh? Why?”

 _That_ was something that even Jason didn’t know. Well, he knew why, he just didn’t know _how_. What would he do if he finally met the person that was the cause of all his misery? That practically destroyed his life? He had no idea. And he preferred not to dwell on this too much. All his plans usually ended badly, anyway.

“Just… ask him something about the past. It has to do with my family,” he said evasively. He’d rather not share the exact reason with a son of the god he has a grudge against, and probably lose his only chance of actually meeting him.

Percy stared at him for a moment, before sighing.

“Sorry, but it’s not that simple. _I_ haven’t talked to him in months, and it’s not like I can just call him and tell that a stranger wants to talk to him, however good your reason might  be,” he sounded really apologetic, but it didn’t make Jason feel any better. He could see all his hope crushing before his eyes.

“Are you sure nothing can be done?” He pressed, desperate. “It’s _really_ important to me.”

The black haired boy looked at him with pity.

“You can try prying to him. If it’s as important as you say, he might actually answer.”

Praying. Great.

Noticing the crestfallen look on Jason’s face, Percy shifted uncomfortably.

“Does it have to be Poseidon?  Isn’t there anyone else who might know answers to your questions?”

“Unless you know someone else who has lived for over three thousand years, then yes,” Jason snapped, already at his wit’s ends. Having been told that he could as well already go home wasn’t nice.

To his surprise, the teenager’s eyebrows shot up, a small smirk playing on his lips.

“Actually,” he said slowly, “I do happen to know someone like that.”

 

Standing at the top of the hill, Jason found himself amazed by the view. A big stretch of woods, a sandy beach with the creek, the canoe lake, green fields and the cabins, each one different and unique, colored and decorated in all of manners- it all took his breath away. At the same time, he felt both longing for his long lost home and fear at being overwhelmed by the familiarity. Those contradicting feelings were slowly wearing him down.

“The camp makes quite an impression, doesn’t it?” Percy asked besides him wistfully, and Jason could only nod.

They trudged down the hill, towards a big house that Percy said was the main administrative building in the camp.  The manor itself didn’t stand out much, painted in sky blue, with lounge chairs and a card table. The open doorway made a welcoming impression, as if saying: _come and rest_. Jason felt compelled to listen to that.

They entered the building, Percy going first, calling:

“Chiron, are you there?!”

A pleasant voice answered him from the inside. “Here!”

Percy ginned and led him down the hall to what Jason supposed was a living room, but looked anything but. Grapevines curved up the walls and ceiling, making quite a peculiar sight. Besides that, there was an assortment of masks of all sorts, staring at him from the walls. Fire happily crackled in the fireplace, making a cosy atmosphere.

In front of the fireplace, with a mug of steaming tea, sat a man on a wheelchair. He looked to be middle-aged, with thinning brown hair and bushy eyebrows. Smiling warmly (albeit a surprise flickered in his eyes at the sight of Jason), the man gestured for them to sit on one of the couches.

“And if I may inquire as to who’s your friend, Percy?” He asked politely.

Jason decided that it was time for him to speak up.

“My name’s Jason. It’s nice to meet you, sir. Percy has told me a lot about you.” Like the fact that the man was really a centaur. He still couldn’t get over that fact.

 The man nodded in acknowledgment, a mischievous smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“The pleasure is all mine. I do hope, however, that you do not have amnesia.” The sentence was clearly a joke, a hidden one if one looked at Percy’s amused face, told in a good-natured way, yet Jason still felt himself stiffen. Appearing after three years out of nowhere, and thought to be long dead, he didn’t have much options regarding his absence. So he decided to go for the seemingly easiest one- feigning an amnesia. As it turned out, it wasn’t as easy as he hoped, what with the following investigation and obligatory medical treatment, but finally, after few months, he had some peace. Or used to.

Noticing his expressions, the man’s smile diminished.

“Do you?” He asked worriedly.

Percy was looking at him with furrowed eyebrows, clearly not understanding what the problem was.

“It depends on who’s asking,” Jason found himself answering. He didn’t know why he felt the need to explain himself. Feigning amnesia wasn’t an option anyway, not if he wanted to get answers to his questions. Still, being in the presence of the two men made him feel comfortable, something he hasn’t felt in a very long time. After coming back, he couldn’t really confess to anyone the truth, not without being called crazy. Here, however, he felt like he kind of belonged. Not like in Atlantis. Nothing could replace his home, but this place was the closest call in modern world.

Chiron raised his eyebrows at the strange notion.

“And who shouldn’t ask?” He inquired curiously.

Jason shrugged.

“The police, my doctor and anyone involved with them.”

At that, Percy chuckled and patted him on his shoulder.

“Don’t worry, we don’t particularly like police either. They once accused me of kidnapping my mom.” At Jason’s alarmed look he quickly added, “But it was a mistake! I didn’t kidnap her!”

“I see,” Jason said, but to Percy’s chagrin, he didn’t look entirely convinced.

“So, Jason,” started Chiron, putting the mug on the table beside him, “are you a friend of Percy from Camp Jupiter?”

“Camp Jupiter?” Echoed Jason, thinking back to his first conversation with Percy. He remembered the boy mentioning the name once, alongside of Camp Half-Blood, but it hadn’t been brought up later. He thought he recognized the name, though, for once, not from his time in Atlantis. Before coming to the mythical city, his knowledge of mythology was limited at best- enough to recognize some names, but not enough to know the whole story. Not to mention he saw some of those myths crumbling before his eyes. Well, it _was_ mythology. They couldn’t get all facts right.

From what he remembered, Jupiter was the roman counterpart of Zeus. So did that mean the camp belonged to him? Or was it a place for his children, like Camp Half-Blood was a place for all demigods?

He looked to Percy for help.

“He says he’s Greek,”  the black haired teen piped up helpfully, “and I just met him chasing after the Calydonian Boar.”

The old man furrowed his brows, looking at Jason carefully. To the Atlantean, it seemed like he was considering if he made a right decision being friendly in the first place. Well, he couldn’t blame him. It was natural to be suspicious of a stranger. He just mostly had the luck to run into people who were maybe a bit too trustful for their own good.

“I’m afraid I’ve never seen you at camp,” he said finally, his brown eyes boring into Jason’s.

“That’s because I’ve never been here before,” Jason stated, withstanding the gaze. “Look, sir, I’m here because Percy said that you may have some answers I’m seeking. After that, I’m gone.”

Chiron leaned back in his chair, clasping hands in his lap. He looked like he was bracing himself for a long conversation.

“And what do you wish to know?” He asked, but before Jason could say anything, the man raised his hand in a stopping gesture. “Ah, excuse me, but before we start, do you mind telling us who exactly you are? You see, it’s not exactly common for demigods who have, for different reasons, never been at camp, to seek us out later on their own. Or to live that long, for that matter.”

Jason blinked.

“That’s because I’m not a demigod.”

Silence, then-

“What?!”

The outburst came from Percy. The teen was staring at him disbelievingly with wide green eyes, looking like he just saw a ghost.

Jason scratched his chin awkwardly, being at the end of two very intense stares.

“Didn’t I mention that? I’m sure I did.” Or maybe not. He didn’t lie, but then again, the teen hadn’t asked him directly, so Jason didn’t feel the need to  speak up on his own.

“ _No,_ ” was the fierce answer. The teenager didn’t look happy at all at how this conversation was going, and Jason wondered if he’s broken some sort of a taboo bringing him here.

Before any of them could speak further, Chiron interjected .

“I’m afraid that’s not possible. The camp barriers would prevent you from entering if you were a mortal. Maybe you simply don’t know who your godly parent is?” The man was looking at him as if he were some puzzle he had yet to solve.

Jason shook his head.

“No, I’m sure I’m not a demigod. Sorry I didn’t mention it earlier… You are upset,” he stated, looking at the wrinkles that became much more pronounced on the man’s face.

The man sighed, taking a long sip from his mug. Percy was glancing between the two of them, not sure if he should speak or not. Finally, the man put down his tea and started in a weary voice:

“It’s not that, my boy. I’m just trying to understand something here. If you’re sure that neither of your parents are gods, then you must be a descendant from them. We don’t usually host grandchildren and so of the gods, but from what I hear, there is a lot of them in Camp Jupiter,” here he glanced at Percy for confirmation, and at the boy’s nod, continued. “You know about our world. Where did you learn about it? Did your parents tell you something?”

It was slowly becoming annoying.

“No,” he said firmly, not leaving any room for discussion, “I found out about it because I was literally thrown right into it and had to adapt. I don’t know why your barriers didn’t work, but it’s not the first time that I defied magic.”

Chiron pursued his lips, probably wondering what should he ask next. Jason was aware that he wasn’t giving clear answers, but it was the centaur who insisted on interrogation. If he had his way, he would be over with it a long time ago.

“Still,” the man insisted, “May I know the names of your parents? If they were campers here, I might remember them.”

Jason growled under his breath. _Why_ the man had to be so damn stubborn? He was planning to ask about Atlantis generally, not disclose every personal information about his life.

“I am sure they were not,” he said through gritted teeth, “but if you have to know, their names were Aeson and Pasiphae.” There. He said it. For the first time in… well, he only said it as a full sentence maybe two times. Usually it was either one or the other, or, if Jason had his way, none. Of all his memories of the lost city, the ones about his parents were something he greatly avoided thinking about. They were just too contradicting and at times confusing to not leave him with mixed feelings, and if Jason was about to get lost daydreaming again, he preferred it to be the happy memories of the time he spent with his friends.

Now, looking at the reactions his confession caused, he wondered if maybe he was wrong in his assumption that the centaur wouldn’t know his parents. He _was_ thousands years old, after all, according to Percy. Still, the idea of Pasiphae spending her youth in a camp with _commoners_ , training under the watchful eye of a centaur and plotting how to take the throne in her free time almost made him laugh.

The son of the sea god was looking at him with wide eyes, color drained from his face. Why was _he_ so surprised? It’s not like a modern teenager could know them… right? Besides, shouldn’t these names be common among half-bloods? His own name was Perseus.

Chiron, on the other hand, was torn between joining Percy in his shocked disbelief and behaving rationally. He decided on the latter.

“Do you, by any chance, mean Pasiphae, the immortal sorceress and wife to Minos?” He asked carefully.

Now it was Jason’s turn to go pale.

“ _Please,_ tell me you’re joking and she didn’t find some way to become immortal.”

At the silence that followed, Jason buried his face in his hands.

“Of all people to survive, it had to be _her…_ ” he muttered under his breath in despair.

“Wait!” Percy exclaimed, confusion written all over his face. “What do you mean by _became?_ She wasn’t immortal before?”

“Obviously not,” Jason stated, irritated.

“But then, how can she be your mother? If you were born when she was still mortal, you’d have to be, what, three thousand years old?!”

“It’s complicated,” was all he said. On the inside he was still devastated at the notion of his mother being alive. There were also other mixed feelings involved, but he chose not to dwell on them.

“Please explain it for us,” the eldest man said in a stern voice. He was looking at Jason with a blank face, like he didn’t know what to think.

Jason sighed, bracing himself for what was to come.

“What exactly do you want to know?” He asked in a resigned tone.

Chiron leaned forward in his chair, his eyes boring into Jason’s. The look was so intense that the younger man found himself instinctively backing up against the couch, feeling cornered.

“How about everything?”

Jason straightened in his seat, his mouth pressing into tight line. Should he really tell them everything? It would be painful, he knew that. And what if they laughed at him? Despite being connected to the same world, it wasn’t certain that they would believe him. He was ready to tell the truth to the gods if he managed to meet them. He actually rehearsed his speech several times, each one with obligatory dramatic effect and rightful anger. More than once, it ended with him dying at the hands of said god. He didn’t mind that that much. But saying that to someone else? He didn’t actually anticipated that.

“Very well,” he finally said reluctantly, “but answer my question first: what do you know about Atlantis?”

Percy’s reaction was quick.

“It’s a myth,” he piped up enthusiastically, then blinked. “Funny, the other Jason actually asked me similar question…”

Jason resisted the urge to snap at the boy with something like: ‘Just because your dad had the whim to destroy it, doesn’t mean it didn’t exist.’ Yes, he could now admit that he resented Poseidon with all his might. Someone might say that there was no proof that is was actually work of the god of the seas, but Jason just knew. Call it his intuition, another special ability, whatever- he was sure he was right.

He decided to ignore Percy and instead focused his attention on Chiron, who wasn’t as quick to state his opinion. The man was looking at him strangely, as if wondering where this conversation was going

“And why,” he asked, in Jason’s opinion, very carefully, “do you wish to know that?”

That cemented Jason’s belief that the man knew more than he was letting on. It also made him think that his answer would depend on Jason’s next words.

Without beating around the bush any longer, he stated in a blunt voice:

“Because I am Atlantis’ last king.”

Silence. Percy was looking at him with furrowed eyebrows, probably to determine if he was joking or not. Chiron’s expression remained impassive, the only change in his posture being  slight tilting of the head.

“And how could that be possible?”

Jason crossed his arms over his chest.

“I hoped that you could answer that question.”

The centaur hummed to himself, but didn’t answer. Jason had a feeling that the old man was looking him over more closely than before, probably searching for any distinguishing marks. He wondered if he should show him his pendant as a proof, but finally decided against it. He could dismiss it as a simple trinket, after all.

Percy finally couldn’t take the silence any longer.

“Chiron!” He exclaimed, baffled. “You don’t believe this, do you? Atlantis didn’t exist, right?” He sounded less sure with every word.

Chiron winced and turned to the boy.

“Percy, maybe you should-“

“Oh no, I’m not getting out of here. I want to hear this,” the teen stubbornly crossed his arms.

The centaur sighed, massaging his temples.  All of a sudden, he looked very tired and old, as opposing to his usual cheerful and vigorous behavior.

“Very well. But beware that I myself do not have all the answers.” He turned to Jason, “You claim you hail from the city of Atlantis, which many consider a myth.”

“But you obviously don’t.”

“I have lived many years. Seen many things.”

Jason stiffened, unfamiliar feeling creeping up his spine. Was this man suggesting what he thought he was? Did he really find someone who were like a link to the past? He didn’t know what to think at the possibility. It was just too bizarre.

“Did you see the city sank?” He asked quietly.

The centaur shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable.

“No. But I… heard about it. It was some time before…” he trailed off, then started again, “But I do take it that you _have_ seen it.”

Jason laughed hollowly, startling the two men. Had he seen it? The city taking on water, destroying houses, killing  men, women, children? Had he heard the screams of the innocent people who didn’t deserve to die like that? Did he do something to prevent it?

“I _died_ there,” he said in a flat voice. “I died there and then woke up _here,_ in this godforsaken land, with the knowledge that I was the only one to live when everyone else died. And now I ask, why? Why it had to be me? Why not someone who would actually enjoy it?” He paused for breath, then added in a quiet voice, “Do you know why? Why the city had to sink?”

The centaur looked truly regretful, and if he didn’t believe him earlier, Jason was sure he did now. But from his expression he could also tell what his answer would be before he opened his mouth- no. He expected it, alright, but it still hurt. Being so close to the truth and still not able to reach it.

“I am truly sorry, my child,” he looked really pained for having to say this, “but I’m afraid I don’t know. The whole sinking of Atlantis was shrouded in mystery even at that time, and when the mist started working, there was no way to find out anything…”

Jason frowned, catching the familiar word.

“Mist? What do you mean?

Chiron grimaced.

“Shortly after the city disappeared from the face of the earth, mist started working, covering the whole incident. People forgot that there was a city with a name like this, even those who managed to escape the water. Not everything was forgotten, of course. People transferred their memories to another things, places, individuals, thus creating different myths. A good example might be Creta.”

Jason gaped at him, not believing what he heard. It was… covered up? Like nothing happened? Like thousands of people didn’t die there, fighting for their lives? Somehow it outraged him more than the sinking itself.

“Are you telling me…” he started quietly, voice flat and cold, “that first he destroyed the city… and then made everyone forget it ever existed?”

There was a moment’s pause, before Chiron understood the implications. His face creased in grief, and he spoke slowly and carefully, as if talking to a child:

“We don’t know-“

“Spare me that talk,” snarled Jason, fists clenched at his sides. “We both know who did this. What I want to know is _why._ ”

Percy was going to strangle his neck by the number of times he was turning his head to look at the both of them.

“Can someone please tell me what’s going on? Who destroyed Atlantis?” He asked, alarmed.

Two voices answered at once “Percy-“ and “Your father” and silence fell around the room.

Chiron shot Jason a disapproving look, but the man only shrugged. Percy seemed like a nice kid, but it didn’t mean he shouldn’t hear the truth. He had dealt with the knowledge of his mother’s identity, so could he.

Said teenager was looking at them with widened eyes, mouth hung open. Jason couldn’t tell if he was more shocked or outraged at such accusations towards his father.

Percy turned his head to the centaur, his face pleading.

“That’s not true, is it?” He asked, and at the prolonged silence, his voice rose in an octave, “Right?”

Chiron took a deep breath and started:

“As I said, we cannot know for sure,” he raised his hand, stopping the incoming protests, “But, indeed it was always suspected that Poseidon was the one responsible.”

Percy paled a few shades, and his mouth opened but no sounds came out. After a while of gaping like a fish, though, he finally managed to pull himself together and get out a desperate, “But _why_?”

“Isn’t that a good question,” muttered Jason, once again receiving a warning look from Chiron, and shooting him a glare of his own in turn. Was the man expecting him to act like nothing happened or what?

The centaur massaged his temples, for the first time looking his age. Jason actually felt kind of sorry for him. Explaining something like that probably wasn’t pleasant. Still, if he knew the truth and kept quiet, he was partly responsible, so he wasn’t going to go easy on him.

“I suspect that only the gods know,” he said finally, looking very tired. “Those of us who retained some of our memories could only theorize, but never knew the truth. We thought that the Atlanteans must have committed some terrible crime to warrant such an anger. That is, assuming it was indeed him.”

Jason felt his blood boil. Committed a crime? How dare they?

“We _revered_ him,” he stressed, “made offerings to him. We didn’t do anything wrong.”

He remembered the Palladium and the earthquakes that ensued after it was stolen, and like everyone was saying they were on the receiving end of Poseidon’s anger. They were saying the same thing when the city was being flooded, but then no one was able to find the reason. Jason paid little attention back then. He quickly got used to magic and never really questioned it, and the sinking was always expected. Only it wasn’t. After all that they’ve been through, Jason thought that it was never going to happen, or that they’ve prevented it. Whatever. He never expected it to actually _happen._

Chiron was looking at him with apologetic eyes, not being able to provide the answers he actually needed. There was also something akin to pity in his gaze, and Jason averted his eyes. He didn’t want pity.

After a while, Percy excused himself, looking a bit sick. He avoided eye contact with Jason, for which the Atlantean was glad. He didn’t want to see the same look in his eyes as in Chiron’s.

When they were alone in the room, Jason fidgeted in his place. It was probably time to leave for him as well, yet he was reluctant to do so. Maybe he didn’t find any real answers, and the ones he found only added to his anger, but the fact was that Camp Half-Blood felt much more comfortable than any other place in the modern world he has been in. It wasn’t home, and it would never be, but it was still much better than the empty flat that awaited him in London.

Still, he wasn’t a demigod. He didn’t really belong here.

He started to get up, only to be stopped by Chiron.

“Please, don’t leave yet,” said the man gently. “I know you must be disappointed, but I don’t want you to leave with bad impressions. I can help you .”

Jason raised his head and looked the man straight into his eyes.

“Help me? How? You said you didn’t have any answers.”

The centaur smiled sadly and inclined his head.

“With that, I’m afraid no, and the only other person who might, Mr D, is not currently available, though I doubt he’d be willing anyway,” he let out a sigh and resumed talking, “What I meant was, do you have a place to stay? You said you suddenly appeared here after… that happened, which I imagine must be terribly confusing. We might be able to help you to adapt to life in this world.”

Jason furrowed his brows, confused, before understanding dawned on him. Right. He didn’t tell him the _beginning_ of the story. He probably thought he was an ancient man suddenly thrown into the future without a clue as to how any modern things worked. Oh well.

The Atlantean waved his hand dismissively, even though he felt a little pang at the man’s words. He offered him a place to stay because he didn’t know any better and probably out of pity. He wouldn’t do that otherwise.

“Oh, don’t worry, I have a pretty good hang of things,” he said dryly. “I don’t need your help.”

Chiron leaned forward in his wheelchair and Jason suddenly felt cornered, even though there wasn’t anything intimidating about the man. He shifted nervously in his seat.

“Really?” The question was pleasant, and the former pity he saw in the man’s eyes was gone, replaced with something different. Amusement, maybe? He wasn’t sure, but he knew that the man was looking right trough him and that made him uncomfortable. The only one who looked at him like that before was The Oracle.

Before Jason could answer that yes, he was fine on his own, the man was nodding his head vigorously, saying:

“I see, I see. I wouldn’t want to impose on you, of course. But I’d never forgive myself if I had such an opportunity and didn’t at least ask. So, I understand you do not need our help, but what would you say about a job? We could use another swordsman trainer, and I’m sure the kids would love to hear about Atlantis. So, what do you say?”

There was definitely a mischievous  gleam in the man’s eyes, and Jason’s brow twitched.

Damn bastard. He saw right through him.

 

The mess hall pavilion was a beautiful place, with torches blazing around the marble columns and a large bronze brazier with fire burning in it, but Jason couldn’t really admire any of this, because he was busy fidgeting under what seemed like hundredth of stares coming from the kids sitting at the tables around. He shouldn’t feel uncomfortable because of the attention. He was a king, damnit. Still, it wasn’t something he was used to receiving in the modern world, unless you counted the doctors and policemen.

He tried to pull himself together and not look anyone in the eyes. He didn’t want to come here in the first place, but Chiron said that if he was going to teach the kids, he should introduce him to everyone. Something he was now regretting.

Chiron pounded his hoof against the marble floor of the pavilion and everybody fell silent.

“Before we begin, I’d like to introduce you to Jason, our new swordsman trainer. He comes from quiet a far away, so I hope you will make him feel welcome.”

Excited murmurs ripped through the hall, and campers began whispering amongst each other. Jason didn’t know whether it was because Percy already managed to spread the news about who their new teacher was, or they were just excited to see a new face. Or maybe, like Percy, they’ve never seen another adult ‘demigod’.

Chiron pounded his hoof again, raised his glass, and said: “To the gods!” and everyone else intoned.

Jason sat together with him at the head table, the man once again shrinking back into his wheelchair. Jason felt strange every time seeing this.

Nymphs came forward, carrying plates of food, ranging from fruits to bread and meat. Jason looked around for something to drink, but found only empty glasses.

“You have to say what you want to drink and the glass will fill itself.”

At Jason’s skeptical look, he raised his own glass and said, “Orange juice.” The glass filled with orange liquid.

With raised eyebrows, Jason took his own glass and said, “Wine.” The liquid that filled his cup was light green and definitely didn’t look like wine.

Chiron coughed.

“Anything non-alcoholic.”

The younger man rolled his eyes.

“Of course.”

He tried a sip of his drink, which turned out to be grape juice. No surprises there.

Jason was about to treat himself to something, when he noticed that children were standing up with their plates full, and approaching the fire in the middle of the pavilion, then throwing some of their food to the fire.

He turned his head to the centaur.

“What are they doing?” He asked curiously.

“They are making their offerings to the gods,” explained the older man, but at Jason’s blank look, elaborated, “To pay their respects, ask for something, pray.”

“And do they _listen_?” Asked Jason.

“Sometimes, sometimes not,” answered the man, then looked carefully at Jason. The Atlantean felt like once again he was being read like a book.

“Careful,” said the centaur, “the gods are easy to offend and anger. You do not want to face their wrath.”

Jason shrugged.

“I don’t have anything to lose.” He already lost everything to them. What was his life?

He threw some food onto his plate and marched towards the fire, falling in line behind some plump kid. When it was finally his turn, he hesitated for a moment, before slipping everything into the fire. In his mind, he said:

_I am speaking to Poseidon, the god of the seas and patron of Atlantis. The city you destroyed. I am Jason, son of king Aeson and queen Pasiphae, the rightful king of Atlantis. If you hear me, I’d like to know why you decided to destroy my city and spare me._

He paused for a moment, checking if something happened, then shrugged and returned to his table.

Chiron was looking at him worriedly but didn’t say anything, and Jason didn’t offer any words of his own. They spent the rest of the dinner mostly in silence.

After finishing his meal, Jason excused himself and returned to the Big House. By that time, half of the pavilion was empty, but curious eyes still followed his movements, so he scurried quickly to the exit.

He almost reached his destination, when he was approached by a girl with blonde hair, tied in a ponytail, sharp grey eyes, and a determined expression.

“Excuse me,” she shuffled nervously in place, “but can I ask you a question?”

Jason braced himself for what was coming next.

“What is it?” He asked.

“Are you _the_ Jason?” She looked at him with such an intense gaze that Jason felt a bit uncomfortable.

Of all things he was expecting, it wasn’t one.

He blinked at her with a confused expression.

“ _What_ Jason?”

The girl shuffled her feet again and turned her eyes to the ground, suddenly not as confident as before.

“I mean… Percy said…”

Oh, right. So Percy  _did_ tell someone about his encounter. He was expecting that, but he still didn’t know what the girl meant.

“What do you mean by _the_ Jason?” He voiced his question.

The girl looked at him again, then offered, “Jason and the Argonauts? The quest for the Golden Fleece?”

Jason paused and looked at her carefully. No matter what anyone said, he wasn’t stupid. The thing was, his first adventure in Atlantis was facing the Minotaur, and he knew that particular myth belonged to Theseus. He  _did_ hear the term “Jason and the Argonauts” before, but by the time he was sailing the Argo he practically forgot everything from the modern world. Later, when he came back, he didn’t bother checking such things. Now, though, it gave him a pause. _Was_ he The Jason from the myths?

 “I have sailed on the Argo to find the Golden Fleece, if that answers your question,” he said finally.

The girl’s eyes brightened, and overall she looked like Christmas had come early.

“That’s, that’s fantastic!” She exclaimed, excited, “And you really come from the Lost City of Atlantis?”

Jason grimaced, and the girl widened her eyes, immediately realizing her mistake.

“I’m sorry,” she said in a devastated voice, “I didn’t want…” she trailed off, looking to the side.

She looked really miserable, so Jason managed to form a smile, hoping it looked authentic.

“It’s okay,” he assured her, even though it really wasn’t. He shifted in his place, not really knowing what to say next. Finally, he asked, “Was there anything else you wanted to know?”

The blonde opened her mouth but then closed them, probably rethinking her questions and wondering if any of them might upset him. It annoyed Jason a bit. He wasn’t so unstable that a little mention of the tragedy would break him.

In the end, she decided to say in a level voice:

“I wanted to know if you’d like to talk to me-, us, probably,” she corrected herself,” about… well, everything. The Argo, Atlantis… Gods, everyone thought that to be a myth! I can only imagine that it was beautiful, and the legends say the Atlanteans to be pretty advanced. And the architecture…” she trailed off, trying to contain her excitement and mostly failing.

Jason’s lips twitched in amusement, and something warm engulfed his body. The anger he felt when he heard that people were made forget about Atlantis slowly disappeared, replaced with hope of being able to share his stories with people that would actually listen and _believe_. He could tell them about Hercules’ bravery and loyalty, Pythagoras’ ingenuity and support, and Ariadne’s courage and beauty. He could tell them so much more.

“I’d like that,” he replied, and the girl beamed, ready to start showering him with more questions. Before she could do that, though, Jason raised his hand and stopped the incoming onslaught.

“But not today,” he said. “I’m pretty tired after everything that happened.”

The girl nodded her head in understanding, not looking overly disappointed.

“I understand. Whenever you like would be fine.”

“Tomorrow’s fine, I guess. It’s not like I have anything planned,” he shrugged his shoulders.

The girl smiled at him and was about to excuse herself to leave, before she remembered something and stopped in her tracks.

She smacked her head.

“Gods, how rude of me. I completely forgot to introduce myself. I am Annabeth Chase, daughter of Athena.”

Jason smiled and extended his hand to her.

“Nice to meet you, Annabeth. My name is Jason.”

Annabeth grinned and shook his hand, and Jason found himself thinking that his stay at Camp Half-Blood might be a little more eventful than he thought. Somehow, he didn’t mind.

 

When the time came for his first lesson on swordplay, Jason found himself becoming increasingly nervous. Chiron explained to him that since it was july, the camp was full of children, even more so than in the previous years, because of some gods’ new policy he didn’t bother elaborate on. He only said it had to do with two recent wars, and that it was a story for another time. Jason didn’t mind. He had enough of wars.

Still, the amount of people that came to the arena shocked him a bit. The activities director informed him that for the most part, demigods trained with the people from their own cabins, with the head counselor as the instructor, but since not every cabin had a master swordsman in their midst, every willing volunteers could come to Jason.

He expected maybe a few curious onlookers, not half the camp.

Okay, maybe he was exaggerating, but he could safely say that there was about thirty to forty kids in the centre of the arena, and about thirty more lurking in the background. _Much_ too many to train at once.

“Okay, we won’t have that,” the Atlantean raised his hand, focusing everyone attention on him, “Can you line up by your cabins?”

It went faster than he expected, but Jason noticed that a few kids immediately took charge and started giving orders, so he assumed they must’ve been head counselors. Also, only the demigods in the centre listened  to him, so the rest must’ve been only to observe.

There was a few bigger groups, and two boys that stood independently. The largest group consisted of about fifteen people, led by two identical skinny boys with a mop of curly brown hair and mischievous smiles, that somehow told Jason they would be trouble. He decided to leave them for later.

“Alright,” he turned to the first group, consisting of two girls and two boys, “You stay.”

He indicated the next boy, the one standing alone, who was yawning lazily and looking overall bored. Jason wondered what he was doing here. “You too,” he said, “and-“

“Us! Please take us!”

Jason whirled around at the loud voice, only to stare at the kid who called him.

He was a scrawny teenager with curly black hair, dark brown eyes and Hispanic features. What mostly distinguished him from the rest, however, was that he was bouncing in place with his hand raised like in class and a grin stretched from ear to ear. At least he didn’t give the same vibes like the twins.

There were about six people behind him, including a girl who was now face palming at her companion. Jason wondered if it wouldn’t be too much for one lesson, then shrugged. Whatever.

“Okay, you stay too.” He then turned to the rest of the groups and told each to come back either in two or three hours.

Many people who were sent away looked disappointed, but a lot of them stayed behind with the rest of the onlookers. Well, he’d just have to deal with the audience.

When there was only him and the kids he chosen left in the centre of the arena, he took a closer look at his ‘students’. From the thirteen of them, only one looked like a really warrior material, and to his surprise, it was the bored boy. The others didn’t even all have swords, that including those he assumed were the head counselors.

Jason decided to address that issue first.

“Great, for starters, which cabin are you from, and where are your swords?” The last he directed at the bouncing boy and one girl beside him, as well, as the girl at the front of the second group.

“Leo Valdez, Cabin Nine, at your service,” the Latino boy gave a low bow and a lopsided grin. “As to your second question, we’re Hephaestus’ cabin, so we don’t really specialize in swordplay. Well, I sure don’t, but some guys wanted to try it out, so I decided to bring them here. Also, I heard some very interesting things from my friends, so I just _had_ to be here.”

The last statement caused the other kids to look up at him with interest clear in their eyes. One more braver boy from the girl’s group piped up:

“Is it true? Are you really _the_ Jason?”

Jason mentally sighed. He should’ve known that most of the demigods would come here because of the rumors and not for the actual training.

“If you mean the one with the Argonauts, then yes, probably I am,” he raised his hand to stop the incoming questions. “But now is not the time for asking questions. We’re supposed to be practicing swordplay, so if that was the only reason you came here, you should leave now.”

To his surprise, only those without swords actually retreated.

“Sure, sure, boss. But expect me later, I have something to tell you about. I’m sure you’ll _love_ it,” Leo Valdez winked at him and walked away together with his girl companion.

“I am also not suited to use a sword,” said the girl from the other group. “My name is Katie Gardner and I’m the head counselor of Cabin Four. I will leave now,” and, smiling nervously, she left.

Left alone with the remaining nine kids, barely able to contain their excitement or nervousness, Jason felt a little anxious. He never really taught anyone anything, and he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to. It was time to find out.

“So,” he let out a breath, “we’ll need a volunteer. Are there any?”

None of the kids seemed willing to step out besides the bored boy, so Jason called him forward.

“What’s your name?” He asked.

“Sherman,” replied the boy, then grinned, but not in a pleasant manner. “Son of Ares, Cabin Five. If you’re really the ancient hero we’ve heard so much about, then I hope you can put up a good fight.”

Jason rolled his eyes. Of course he had to be an arrogant prick. Whatever. He’d dealt with enough of them.

“We’ll see,” was all he said, before rising his sword. He didn’t have to wait long for the attack to come. They exchanged swipes for a while, and Jason had to admit that the kid wasn’t half bad. Seemed like being a son of the god of war actually meant something. Still, Jason wasn’t called the best swordsman in Atlantis for nothing, and in a few moves he quickly disarmed his opponent.

“Not bad,” said Jason, seeing that Sherman was getting quiet angry at his defeat. “How about that: I start training the Demeter’s kids, and you take the Hephaestus’ ones for now? Later we change. That way no one will be left standing doing nothing.”

The boy looked at him surprised, and Jason could tell that he was pleased at the task, though he tried to hide it.

“Sure,” he grunted, and Jason smiled.

As Sherman went to yell at the Hephaestus’ kids, Jason turned to the Demeter cabin. There were three of them left, and Jason could tell that they didn’t have much experience with swords.

“Okay,” he said to them, “let’s start.”

He showed each of them a few thrusts and parries, as well as a few tricks he picked up along the way. They were catching on pretty quickly, though definitely weren’t as good as Sherman. Still, they were  much better than him when he first held a sword, he grudgingly admitted

Later, he made an exchange with Sherman and got the other kids, then repeated with them the same steps.

Of all the demigods from the two cabins, some were better than the others, and some were complete greenhorns. With those he had to start with the basics, while with the rest it was mostly practicing and improving their technique.

Overall, almost two hours have passed and he barely noticed. He was informed of the time passage with the arrival of the next groups ready for training.

He called it a day, thanked them, and asked one girl to inform the third and fourth groups that their practice would have to be moved to tomorrow. He didn’t realize how much time and effort it would take to train a bunch of children. If the kids were still willing to come in such numbers, he’d have to think of a better system.

 

By the time dinner rolled around, Jason could honestly say that he was tired. It was a long time since he last held a sword for such a period of time, and he was still a little out of shape, his scuffles with monsters in New York non-withstanding.

When the nymphs brought out food, he filled his plate to the brim, this time not planning to sacrifice any of it to the gods. The food was good, not really Atlantis-like, but still quiet tasty, so he found himself quickly devouring everything.

Chiron was looking at him with an amused expression.

“How was your first day?” The centaur asked him pleasantly.

Jason swallowed a bite of chicken and replied:

“Good. The kids were handy with swords.”

Chiron nodded and swept everyone in the pavilion with his gaze.

“Most demigods have dyslexia and ADHD, which gives them a natural instinct to fight. That’s why they can endure against monsters.”

Jason looked at him curiously.

“Really? That’s interesting.”

The older man inclined his head, then added offhandedly, “I heard that you offered Annabeth to recount some stories.”

The Atlantean looked carefully at his companion, trying to read where he was going with this.

“Yes. Why?”

Chiron hesitated for a moment, then said in a calm voice:

“I was hoping you could not mention… some things.”

Jason frowned, before understanding dawned on him and his face darkened.

“You want me to omit the part about Poseidon, don’t you?”

“For now,” replied Chiron in a weary tone, “I know it’s a lot to ask for, but I don’t want to cause a ruckus. If suddenly hundredth of children started calling Poseidon a murderer, it might end badly for the camp.”

Jason was silent for a moment, considering the man’s words. He didn’t like what he was saying, but he could admit that he had a point. If Poseidon was willing to destroy a whole city for nothing, what would he do to this camp?

“Fine,” he said finally, “I don’t like it, but I’ll keep quiet. I don’t know about Percy, though.” After all, the teenager was with them back then, and he looked quiet shaken with the revelations.

“Don’t worry about Percy,” said Chiron, and Jason had a feeling that he already had words with the young demigod.

For the rest of the meal, they pretended that the conversation didn’t take place, and Jason was about to leave, when Chiron said, “I was also hoping that you could tell _me_ something more about Atlantis. I’m sure there is many discrepancies with the myths I’d like to cover.”

Jason nodded his head in agreement and left to finally rest for a bit.

 

He didn’t establish any particular time or place with Annabeth, so he wasn’t sure if she would come seeking him on her own, or just forget about the meeting. As he quickly found out, she didn’t, and she came to the Big House together with Percy.

The son of Poseidon was nervously shuffling his feet, twirling a ballpoint in his fingers.

“About that…” he started in a guilty voice, but didn’t manage to finish, because Jason stopped him mid-sentence.

“Don’t.”

The boy looked at him in surprise, and Jason continued, “Don’t try to apologize. It’s not your fault.”

“But-“

“No buts. I’d be a hypocrite if I blamed you for that,” he ran a hand through his locks, “my mother was hardly a saint.”

Annabeth snorted quietly from behind, and Jason looked at her curiously.

“I was about to ask. You implied earlier that you knew her. How?”

Percy and Annabeth exchanged a look and the blonde said:

“I suppose we both have some stories to tell. But maybe we should wait for the others,” she then put on a worried expression, “I hope you don’t mind that I invited some other people?”

Jason shook his head and gave her a reassuring smile.

“No.”

Sure enough, another people started to coming soon. There was Leo Valdez, hand to hand with a girl he didn’t see before, quickly followed by another couple of a dark skinned girl and a blonde boy. The last one gave him a peculiar look, one that Jason didn’t know what to make of. The last one to come took Jason by surprise and left him a bit wary, because he recognized him as satyr. Granted, he didn’t much resemble the satyrs he met in the Forest of Nysa, but it didn’t change the fact that he was one. It also didn’t help that the satyr flinched when he first saw him.

But if the others trusted him, he was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

They entered the living room and seated themselves on the couches, while Jason and the satyr took the armchairs. When everybody was comfortable enough, Annabeth decided to take the lead.

“You already know me and Percy, as well as Leo, from what I heard.”

Said boy grinned and slung an arm over the girl sitting next to him, who smiled slightly in response.

“Yes, the next to him is Calypso. Then we have Grover Underwood,” she indicated the satyr, who fidgeted in his place, looking nervously at Jason,” and Piper McLean, daughter of Aphrodite, and Jason Grace, son of Jupiter.”

Jason raised his eyebrows at the last name, and the blond teenager smiled at him awkwardly.

“I suppose I was named after you,” he offered.

“My condolences,” said Jason dryly, before turning to Percy. “So this is your Jason friend who asked you about Atlantis?”

Percy shrugged his shoulders sheepishly.

“So,” he decided to focus on Annabeth for the moment, “What did you want to know?”

The girl’s eyes shone, and Jason had a feeling that the list of questions would be quiet long.

“There is so many things I want to know,” she started, “like how the myths correspond with reality. I always thought that Jason was from Iolcos, not to mention nobody believed Atlantis to be real. I’d like to know what else the mist has covered. It could change so many things in how we see history!”

Jason shifted uncomfortably in his seat, remembering his promise to Chiron. Percy, probably realizing his distress, came to the rescue:

“Don’t worry, we can talk about everything in this group. Chiron knows,” the demigod assured him, but Jason wasn’t entirely convinced. Then again, if he was sure Percy wouldn’t tell anyone… it was his own problem.

“Alright. I’ll start from the beginning. When I first arrived in Atlantis…”

He told them about his encounter with the Minotaur, the meeting with Pythagoras and Hercules, Princess Ariadne, Medusa, and the many adventures they had. Then Minos’ death, war with Pasiphae, the quest for the Golden Fleece and finally some amount of peace.

It was quiet hard to recount the story, because he was constantly interrupted with questions, mostly when a person’s name came up. Annabeth, especially, was fascinated with Pythagoras, and couldn’t contain her excitement when she discovered that they had been friends. Percy and Jason Grace, on the other hand, were quiet baffled by Hercules, before Jason explained that he rather wasn’t the mythological hero they were thinking about. Then again, when he discovered the existence of demigods, he started to think that they might be, in fact, related.

Leo wanted to know everything about the Argo, because, as he promptly informed Jason, he actually built a replica of it. Unfortunately, it was destroyed in the last war, but he had brought pictures with him, and Jason was impressed to admit that indeed it looked exactly like the original.

Leo couldn’t be more proud.

Piper, similarly to Annabeth, wanted to hear about the city itself, and was a bit disappointed to discover that it didn’t differ much from other Greek cities. Still, listening about it from someone who actually have seen it with his own eyes was definitely much more interesting than reading about it in a book, so she showered him with questions about customs and other things characteristic for that period.

Calypso didn’t talk much, but she listened to everything with vivid interest. Leo told him that until recently, she was stranded alone on an island for thousands of years and was also new to the modern world.

Grover, similarly, was either too scared or shy  to talk, and Jason decided to omit the part of his story where he met satyrs. No reason to make him any more uncomfortable.

 “And you really don’t know how you appeared here?” Asked Annabeth after a short period of silence.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” replied Jason laconically, then added, “Now your turn.”

So they told him about their many adventures, that, Jason was amused to discover, were very similar to his own. Some were even practically the same. They told him about the Titan War and Chronos, and then the Giant War and two camps. Jason was surprised to discover that his namesake was actually a Roman demigod, currently residing in Camp Half-Blood with his girlfriend. He was also quiet curious about the New Rome, and decided to ask more about it later.

Finally, they told him about Pasiphae, and some morbid part of Jason’s mind remarked that he and Percy were really even, since both his mother and his father tried to kill their friends. Only Pasiphae didn’t actually succeed. He could only pray for all of his friends’ souls.

There was a lot of things the demigods said that completely didn’t match with Jason’s experiences, mostly concerning people, but, having no other explanation, they blamed it on the mist. He didn’t want to elaborate on them anyway ( _Medusa, Medea_ …).

In the end, Annabeth was very flustered with all the new information, and decided to focus on research in the following days, as well as write everything down. She also asked Jason to draw some sketches of the layout of the city and buildings, and, despite never being a good artist, he promised he’d do that.

“That’s terrible,” said Jason Grace, after they returned to the topic of the city’s demise. “To destroy a whole city…”

All the people in the room had morbid expressions on their faces, and Jason wondered what was going through their heads. Where they imagining the beautiful city being consumed by water, people screaming and running for their lives, only to die a few minutes later? Did they see the God of the Seas standing over the city and watching while it was sinking? They might’ve even met him before, Percy certainly had. They seemed horrified that Poseidon would do such a thing, but they didn’t question his claim, especially since it was seconded by Chiron.

Did they pray for the lost souls?

“Okay, I think it’s enough for today,” Jason finally broke the silence, bringing everyone’s attention to him, “We’ve got lots of time to talk in the following days, anyway.”

Everyone agreed and they parted their ways for this evening.

 

The next days Jason spent mostly on training the campers, as well as answering questions of those that weren’t present when he recounted his story.

It seemed that Percy and Annabeth, and maybe the rest, have told something to their friends to satisfy their curiosity, but it only resulted in a multitude of rumors Jason had to constantly straighten. At one point he even gave up.

The most popular rumor he had heard so far was that he was made immortal by the gods and was actually three thousand years old. Well.

Atlantis itself was also a popular topic. People speculated about the mythical city, and most just assumed it was another name for Creta. New stories were made, mixes of the known myths and Jason’s stories.

The Atlantean was a bit baffled when, sitting once at the camp’s campfire, a boy sitting not far away from him, who was mostly snoring during the whole ordeal, suddenly jerked awake and, looking Jason straight in the eyes, said:

“It was truly a beautiful city. Such a shame it’s no more,” and immediately fell asleep again.

While Jason was busy blinking and trying to decipher the strange statement, Percy coughed and said, “It’s Clovis. He has dreams.”

Whatever he meant Jason wasn’t sure, but if the boy really saw the City of Atlantis in its full glory, then he was lucky.

 

Percy and his friends made it their mission to show Jason around the camp, and that way he was presented with such wonders as the lava climbing wall and the stables. Stables, where the campers kept regular horses and pegasi.

Pegasi riding lessons quickly became one of his favorite activities.

Leo showed him to the Camp Forge, where Hephaestus’ children spent most of their time, as well as Bunker 9, where the Argo II was built.

“And that,” said the Latino boy, indicating the giant bronze-gold dragon standing behind him, “is Festus.”

Jason supposed that after everything he saw, not even an artificial dragon could faze him.

He was introduced to some other more notable campers, like Rachel Elizabeth Dare, the resident Oracle (and wasn’t that just strange). She didn’t have any special prophecy for Jason, though, and he wasn’t sure whether to be relieved by that fact or disappointed.

He also discussed the possibilities of New Rome with the other Jason and Percy, and slowly became convinced that that would be a good place for him. Camp Half-Blood was active mostly in summer, so there wasn’t much to do there at other times. Even Percy was considering permanently moving there with Annabeth .

“It’s a great place for demigods, but not only for them, like Camp Half-Blood. There is a lot of descendants and even mortals who moved there with their families,” explained Jason Grace and sent his namesake a slight smile, “You’ll like it.”

Jason decided that it was at least worth checking out. Some part of him rebelled against the idea of affiliating with people who were related to the gods, but it never really surfaced. Blood, after all he experienced in Atlantis, mattered little to him. And he’d rather spend time with his enemies’ children who understood him than with people who’d like to lock him in a loony bin.

Days flew past quickly, and between his meetings with Annabeth, sword training lessons and other activities he indulged in at the Camp, he hadn’t even realized when two weeks passed. He started to suspect that some people (meaning Percy and his gang) had a silent agreement between themselves to keep him occupied at all times, because practically always when he had nothing to do and started to get bored (and brood) one or more of them showed up and dragged him away to some other activities.

It even worked, sometimes. He hasn’t felt that much alive since… well, his death. That’s why he only half-heartedly argued when they showed up at odd times and interrupted his ‘rest’.

He liked not to think too much about… other things.

He was getting kind of comfortable at camp when something unexpected happened. Or maybe he should have expected that all along.

 

Jason was sitting quietly at the beach, a cup of coffee in his hands. The sun had long set, but the darkness didn’t bother him much, and it wasn’t that dark anyway. Technically, the campers weren’t allowed to be out at night, but he wasn’t a camper, and no one tried to stop him from going there before.

He liked the sound of waves. It reminded him of home a bit.

Jason was in the middle of taking a sip when he heard a sudden rustle from somewhere beside. He turned, expecting to see a stray camper or maybe even a couple, but what he saw made him pause.

Standing a few meters away from him was a tall man with feet buried in sand, dressed in, from what Jason could see, a Hawaiian shirt and Bermuda shorts. His face was unreadable, or maybe he just couldn’t see his expression well in the dark.

What bemused him, however, was that the man looked positively human and adult. He hadn’t seen many of those since he came to camp, and he definitely hadn’t seen this man.

When the stranger just stood there and didn’t offer any conversation, Jason felt unsettled enough to ask, “Who are you?”

Sea green eyes pierced straight into his own brown, and Jason felt himself going very stiff. Now that the man was looking straight at him, he could clearly feel it. _Power_. It surrounded and encompassed him, and there was no mistaking it for anything else.

It wasn’t like Pasiphae or Medea’s powers, or even the Oracle’s. It was much more powerful.

Standing before him, looking like a fisherman, was a god. Jason was positive of it.

“I thought,” started the god in a slow and bland tone, “that I was expected. You have, after all, made your offering to me.”

All air left Jason’s lungs and he felt his head going dizzy.

No, he hadn’t expected that at all. He rather expected being killed on spot, struck by a lighting or drowned, or whatever. And later, after nothing happened, he practically forgot the whole ordeal. He never envisioned that particular scenario, not after getting his hopes squashed by Percy.

That left him stuck between the desire to jump at the throat of the man standing in front of him and close his eyes and imagine he was sleeping.

His body seemed to answer for him, because his hand automatically went to his sword… only to come up with nothing. _Why_ was he never prepared when the situation called for it?

Poseidon observed his movements grimly but made no move of his own. While Jason was considering whether getting himself killed by attacking the man unarmed was worth it (though his strange abilities never made him _completely_ unarmed), the god said, “Your reaction is understandable.”

Jason flicked his head at him annoyed.

“Oh, _really_?” The sarcastic response was automatic, and he didn’t think twice before it left his mouth. It was something he would say to Hercules after the man rebuked or angered him, and it reminded him who he was talking to. Precious opportunity was standing before him and he shouldn’t waste it, whatever he’d do.

A few years ago, he probably wouldn’t hesitate in attacking the man. He still wouldn’t, had he had the sword. The problem was, he didn’t, and the god, too, was weaponless. That never sit well with him, even though he suspected that the man was far from defenseless.

That still left him unsure of what to do.

“Yes,” replied Poseidon, ignoring the sarcasm, “however, I haven’t come here to fight.”

Jason shot him a look that clearly said _Then what are you doing here_.

Poseidon stroked his beard, his expression becoming thoughtful. After a moment of silence, he finally answered:

“You asked me a question. I suppose I am here to answer it.”

Jason felt his heart tightening in his chest. After coming to the camp, he had given up on hope of ever gaining answers. Now, finally being able to obtain them, he found himself torn. Did he really want to know? What if Poseidon told him that _he_ was the reason that Atlantis was destroyed? He wouldn’t be able to live with that. He barely managed now.

 _Survivor guilt,_ they’d say, and Jason snorted. That was an understatement.

The god of the seas seemed to be reading his thoughts, because he said, “You shouldn’t worry. You weren’t the cause. If you were, I doubt I would let you live.”

Jason almost laughed, because, really, _shouldn’t worry_? Was the man insane? Maybe for gods destroying thousands of lives was nothing, but he was _human_ , damnit. He _did_ care.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” his voice dipped in sarcasm, “I was a _bit_ concerned with the lives of thousands of my _subjects._ Not to mention my _friends_. Whom you killed. So, pray tell me, if I wasn’t the cause, what was?”

He could almost see Pythagoras’ terrified face and hear Hercules’ _Are you trying to get yourself killed?_ But, honestly, he didn’t care. He was never one for decorum anyway, and it was a miracle he wasn’t executed in Atlantis for disrespect and treason. So what it mattered if he was talking to a god instead of a queen? If Poseidon decided to attack him, at least he’d have a reason to retaliate.

Poseidon still didn’t seem very fazed, so Jason suspected that he expected such a reception. Well, he’d be a fool to expect anything less.

“It was…” he started slowly, then let out a breath. It was the most human expression he had seen on the god so far. “A mistake.”

Jason looked at him flatly.

“A mistake.”

Poseidon nodded, and Jason couldn’t keep it anymore. He exploded.

“A mistake! What, you intended to flood the city next over, but did _us_ in instead?!” The anger he accumulated over the months finally surfaced, and he made a few hasty steps forward. He finally had someone to direct it at.

The god still didn’t move, tough he raised his hand in what Jason supposed was a pacifying manner. Like that meant anything.

“I didn’t intend to flood any city. But I was younger then, more… reckless. I suppose I must’ve been very upset about something and Atlantis suffered the consequences. I’m sorry,” he sounded really regretful, and Jason was left gawking at him. A temper tantrum. Atlantis was destroyed because of a _temper tantrum_. Of a god. _Jesus fucking Christ._ For the moment that he was stuck in a stupefaction, he wondered If Jesus threw temper tantrums too, destroying cities in the process. There was Sodoma and Gomora… then again, it was the Old Testament, and they deserved it… Or so they said.

He was getting off track.

He tried to focus his gaze at the man in front of him again, but found it incredibly difficult. He wanted to cry. He wanted to pull his hair out and throw a temper tantrum himself. What were you supposed to say to a man who accidently destroyed your life and was actually sorry about it?

“That’s not an excuse,” he managed finally, weakly.

Poseidon nodded his head and replied gravely, “It is not. And I have been punished severely because of that.”

Jason dropped to the ground and buried his head in his hands. He had thought that the truth might help him cope, but it didn’t. It almost made it worse. He’d prefer to hear that they committed some heinous crime and were punished because of that, not a _mistake_.

“Why?” He asked in a broken voice. Now that he knew part of the truth, he could as well know the rest. “Why save me, of all people?” He certainly didn’t deserve that.

Poseidon took on an unreadable expression again, and Jason knew that the time for apologies was over.

“I have not saved you,” stated the god plainly, and Jason looked up in confusion. _He had not? Then who?_ Definitely not his father, this time.

Poseidon read his unspoken question and answered, “I don’t know. I wasn’t aware of this before, so I obviously cannot be certain of anything. But…” He hesitated, and Jason knew that the man was mulling over whether he should tell more or not. Finally, he decided to finish his thought, “but Hera was always very fond of you. If I were to suspect anyone of intervening, it would be her. She was even more angry then Zeus back then.”

While Jason was busy digesting the implications, Poseidon turned to the sea and, with finality clear in his voice, said, “That is all I have to offer to you. Live your life well, and don’t waste the chance you were given.”

He started  to head back into to sea, but paused at Jason’s “Wait!”

The Atlantean took a deep breath and asked one last question that was lingering on his mind, “Why the mist? Why make people forget about Atlantis?”

The man didn’t turn to face him, but his voice could be well heard in the night.

“I didn’t manipulate the mist. Whatever caused it, it happened naturally.” Then he walked into the water and soon disappeared among the waves.

Jason was left sitting at the beach, feeling more numb than before. He came to America looking for answers. Now that he got them, he didn’t feel any respite, only more regret. In the end, it didn’t change anything. Atlantis still was gone, and his wife and friends dead. He didn’t even got his revenge. Before, he didn’t plan living through that encounter, and now that he did, he didn’t know what to do with himself.

Should he just continue on like before, pretending nothing happened? Would he be even able too? Probably not. He felt as if everything he’d built during his stay at Camp Half-Blood crumbled before his eyes, his silent distraction from his depressing thoughts. Now they came back with a double force and he was taking the brunt of it.

A Greek tragedy. Why wasn’t the story of Atlantis made into a play? Oedipus was. He was glad he wasn’t there to witness the kid’s tragedy play out before his eyes.  Or maybe nothing ever happened, and people just twisted facts. He would never know.

He sat there for the next hours, lost in his thoughts, before fatigue finally overcame him and he fell asleep on the beach.

 

The next days passed much more slowly than before. Jason tried to focus on his routine, but it wasn’t easy, his conversation with Poseidon replaying constantly in his head. He closed off to everyone, keeping his interactions with them to a bare minimum. He never acted particularly social, but it was extreme even for him, so people soon started to notice that something was off.

Not having much other choice, he finally told them what happened. The reactions were… different. Most people were shocked that Poseidon even decided to talk to him at all, let alone explain himself. Others seemed relieved that, after all, it wasn’t an act pure out of malice. It angered Jason a bit. Just because it wasn’t intentional didn’t mean everything should be forgiven and forgotten.

Chiron just looked at him with sad eyes and sympathy, and Jason couldn’t stand his presence, because he resembled The Oracle too much at that time.

All in all, the camp’s life went on, and he had to adjust somehow, because if he hadn’t felt willing to go back to London before, he certainly didn’t now.

After all that happened in the short span of last weeks, he honestly thought that that would be the end of surprises. Looking back, he definitely should’ve known better.

 

Jason was returning from the mess hall pavilion when he noticed a person standing on the deck of the Big House. From what he could see, it was a teenage boy, though he didn’t really resemble any other camper he’d seen. And by that Jason meant he didn’t wear the camp’s orange t-shirt, instead being dressed in black clothes covering every inch of his body, save for his face.

That instantly made him wary. The last time he’d seen a stranger at camp, it turned out to be the god of the seas. Granted, the kid didn’t give the same vibes as Poseidon, but it wouldn’t hurt to be careful.

He glanced to the side and saw that his sword was safely secured to his belt. He was never leaving without it anymore.

As he approached, he noticed more distinguishing features on the boy’s face. His skin was ghostly white, and there were dark shadows around his eyes. It looked like he hasn’t slept in a few days.

The stranger raised his head when Jason came closer and nodded in what seemed to be a greeting.

“Hi. You are Jason, aren’t you?”

“Depends on who’s asking.”

A ghost of a smile graced the boy’s lips, and he said, “Fair. My name is Nico di Angelo. I’m a friend of Percy.”

The name instantly jogged his memory, and he remembered that Nico was mentioned in the stories Percy and the gang told him about the Giant War. A son of Hades, if he was correct. The kid before him definitely fit the image of death and underworld perfectly, so Jason had no trouble believing that he was telling the truth.

But what business did he have with Jason?

“I see,” he stated, then ventured, “So what did you want with me?”

Nico hid his hands in the pockets and replied laconically, “I have a message for you. From your friends.”

Jason’s eyebrows rose. His friends? Did he meant Percy and the rest? Sure he spent a lot of time with them here at the camp (mostly at their insistence) but they weren’t close enough to be called friends. At least, Jason refrained from doing so. But the only other people who could be labeled like that were Tom and Mike, and maybe Mac, and he highly doubted that a Greek demigod would be carrying a message from his mortal English friends.

“Do you mean Percy or someone other from Camp?” He finally asked, because the son of Hades wasn’t forthcoming with an answer.

The demigod shuffled his feet, and Jason felt a strange sense of foreboding. Expecting some another awful news, he braced himself for the worst, and thus was completely unprepared when the words came, “No. I mean Hercules and Pythagoras.”

For a few seconds, Jason was sure he misheard. He stood there blinking at the boy, trying to decipher what he had _really_ said. Then, slowly, realization hit him that he had, in fact, heard correctly, and his face darkened in anger.

“Do you think it’s funny?” He hissed through gritted teeth, but the boy didn’t even blink. He held his gaze firmly, not in the least intimidated.

“No. I don’t.”

It was the bluntness and no nonsense tone in which it was stated that made Jason pause. He looked carefully at Nico again, and had to admit that the kid didn’t look like someone to make jokes. Then again, he was a son of Hades. Maybe morbid jokes were a different matter altogether.

“What… do you mean?” He decided to ask warily. He could always yell at him later, but for now, he could as well listen to what he had to say, however ridiculous it sounded. After all he had heard, he was positive that little could be worse.

Nico fidgeted against the balustrade and dropped his gaze to the floor, before starting talking.

“I don’t know if you’re aware, but I’m a son of Hades. That means I can enter the Underworld when I want, as well as talk with its residents. And, well… Percy asked me a favor.”

Jason felt his throat constricting and eyes watering. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. It had to be a cruel joke after all. It just simply wasn’t possible for something like that to happen to him, after all these disappointments he experienced over the course of the last weeks.

Yet, looking at Nico’s serious face, he couldn’t help but ask, “What… what did they say?” It came out hoarse and broken, but it seemed Nico understood him well enough, or at least knew what he would be asking.

The son of Hades shuffled his feet awkwardly, and Jason felt a sudden fear encompassing his body. If the teenager was hesitating, it couldn’t be good. What if they hated him? Or worse, what if they had forgotten him? A lot more time must have passed for them… Jason wasn’t sure what he’d do if that was the case.

“Hercules said…” he paused, as if searching for the right words, then shrugged, “I’m quoting: ‘Tell that idiot that if I find out that he’s been sulking, the next time I see him I’m gonna kick his ass so hard that he’ll go crying to his mommy.’”

Jason gaped at him, honestly at a loss for words. It sounded so much like Hercules, he could practically see his friend uttering these words, in what he thought was a threatening voice.

Nico’s mouth’s corners twitched, but he didn’t smile openly. He coughed a little, then continued.

“Pythagoras was a bit more… considerate, and he said that he was glad to hear that you were well because they had been worried, and that it seems you were given another destiny. According to him, the point of sending you to the future was so you could tell people what they had forgotten, and carry on the legend of Atlantis.”

Jason’s brows twitched, because really, it was so like Pythagoras to seek a logical answer. He wasn’t sure if he agreed, especially considering the whole situation might have been a result of a capricious goddess, but he also could understand his point. He himself was elated when he was given the opportunity to talk about his friends and city.

But then he realized that Nico hadn’t mentioned one important thing, and frowned.

“Ariadne. What about her?”

The demigod once again seemed unsure of how to answer.

“I haven’t seen her,” he said finally, apologetically, “But your friends said she was… sleeping.”

Jasons’ brows shot upward. Nico had missed Ariadne because she was… sleeping? That seemed really far-fetched, especially considering he imagined Pythagoras would want to wake her up for that.

Seeing his consternation, Nico explained, “It seems that she was always asleep… They said that at first no one knew why, but now they suspect that she’s, well, waiting for you.”

Jason felt his heart clench and unclench, because Ariadne was always the most painful part of the tragedy. While his friends might have gotten away, the same didn’t apply to her. They were supposed to die together, and now that he was here, there weren’t words to describe how awful and heartbroken he felt.

And to discover that maybe she had been waiting for him the whole time… Jason didn’t know what to think. On one hand, it was a proof of their unconditional love, but on the other, he felt like he was cheating. She could have found her happiness in the afterlife, however it looked, and forget about him, and yet she didn’t, instead waiting to reunite with him. He, on the other hand, had to live his whole life before he joined his friends and family. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t chosen this, it still happened. And it hurt. A lot.

“Can I maybe…” he hesitated, not wanting to sound too hopeful, “talk to them?”

But Nico was already shaking his head.

“Sorry. Rules,” he said, but seeing Jason’s crestfallen face, his voice softened a bit. “But I can tell you that they are all in Elysium. It’s a paradise for the dead. Only the most righteous of souls can spend their eternity there.”

That lifted Jason’s spirits a bit. If anyone deserved paradise, it was his friends. He hoped that the rest of the poor souls who died in Atlantis also found peace, but his friends were always his priority.

“I… thank you. Thank you,” he said sincerely, and he meant every word. That was simply the best news he heard in a long time, and he savored every bit of it. Yes, his friends were dead and he probably wouldn’t see them in a long time, but the knowledge that he eventually _would_ cast a new light on everything. Maybe they, too, lived a long and fruitful life, before their time came and they were rewarded with Elysium. As for Ariadne… at least she was spared the disappointment of waking up without him.

Nico inclined his head in acknowledgment, then turned around and left the deck, heading in the direction of the cabins. Maybe he too already missed his friends.

Jason, on the other hand, for the first time in what felt like ages, smiled. Yes, the discussion made him only yearn more for home and miss his loved ones even fiercer, but he also knew that suicide or getting himself mindlessly killed wasn’t likely to earn him a passage to Elysium.

No, he had to work hard to make sure he would finally end up there, and when he did, he would tell his wife that her beloved city lived in people’s hearts anew.

That was his new goal.

 

The end.

 


End file.
